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7/3 




WINTER AND SPEING 



ON THE 



SHOEES OF THE MEDITEEEANEAN, 







WINTER AND SPRING 



SHORES OE THE MEDITERRANEAN : 

OK, 

The Genoese Kivieras, Italy, Spain, Corfu, Greece, 

the Archipelago, Constantinople, Corsica, Sicily, 

Sardinia, Malta, Algeria, Tunis, Smyrna, 

Asia Minor, with Biarritz and Arcachon, 

AS WINTER CLIMATES 



By JAMES HENRY BENNET, M.D. 

H 

MEMBER OF THE EOYAL COLLEGE OF PHYSICIANS, LONDON, 

LATE OBSTETRIC PHYSICIAN TO THE EOYAL FEEE HOSPITAL, LONDON, 

BACHELOR OF AETS, BACHELOE OF PHYSICAL SCIENCES, 

AND DCCTOK OF MEDICINE OF THE SOEBONNE, AND OF THE UNIVEBSITY, PARIS, 

ETC. ETC, 




IENS KEDIEN&QUE GAUDET. 



FIFTH EDITION* 



LONDON 
J. & A. CHURCHILL, NEW BURLINGTON STREET 

1875 

[The right of Translation is reserved. 



Don if 
/SIS' 



N& 



1 



®0 t\t lUnwrj 

OF THE LATE 

JOSEPH LANaSTAFF, Esq., 

fellow of the royal college of surgeons england ; 
president of the medical board, calcutta; 

who passed forty years of his life in india, 

This Work 

is dedicated by his sincerely attached son-in-law, 

THE AUTHOE. 

HIS MOTTO: " 
W IENS REDIENSQUE GAUDET." 



PREFACE 



The present work embodies the experience of fifteen winters 
and springs passed on the shores of the Mediterranean, 
from October, 1859, to June, 1874, under the following 
circumstances : — 

Five-and-twenty years devoted to a laborious profession 
and the harassing cares which pursue a hard-worked 
London physician, broke down vital powers. In 1859 I 
became consumptive, and strove in vain to arrest the pro- 
gress of disease. At last, resigning all professional duties, I 
wrapped my robes around me and departed southwards, in 
the autumn of the year 1859, to die in a quiet corner as 
I and my friends thought, like a wounded denizen of the 
forest. It was not, however, to be so. The reminiscences of 
former travel took me to Mentone, on the Genoese JEUviera, 
and under its genial sky, freed from the labours and 
anxieties of former life, to my very great surprise, I soon 
began to rally. 

The second winter I wished to find a locality even more 
favoured, one more in the stream of life, present or past, 
and sought for it in Italy. The search, however, was 
vain, and the unhygienic state of the large towns of that 
classical land partly undid the good previously obtained. 
I retraced my steps, therefore, and again took refuge in 
quiet, healthy Menk>ne. The second trial proved even 
more satisfactory than the first. I gradually attained a 
very tolerable degree of convalescence, and once more my 
thoughts instinctively reverted to professional studies and 
to professional pursuits. 

To return altogether to the arena of London practice 
would have been folly for one just recovering from so fatal 
a disease. I therefore determined to adopt Mentone as a 
permanent winter professional residence, merely resuming 



Vlll PREFACE. 

London consulting practice during the summer months. 
Since then I have adhered to this plan, and have spent the 
winters at Mentone, and the summers in and near London. 
Between the close of the Riviera winter season, and the 
resumption of professional duties in London, I take a 
holiday, in April and May, and have every year employed 
the leisure in the investigation of the climate and vegetation 
of other countries on the shores of the Mediterranean. 
These spring journeys have been conscientiously undertaken 
with the view to discover a better winter climate than that 
of the Genoese Riviera, if such exists in the Mediterranean, 
both for my own advantage and for that of others. They 
have extended over a period of more than eighteen months. 

Hitherto I have not succeeded in finding a better winter 
climate in the Mediterranean than that of the more sheltered 
regions of the western Riviera, and the results of my 
researches may be embodied in a few words. On the shores 
and islands of the Mediterranean there are two kinds of 
winter climates r — 1st. The mild and dry : viz., the north 
shores of the Mediterranean in general, and more especially 
the western Genoese Riviera, and the east coast of Spain. 
2nd. The mild and moist i viz., the Ionian Islands, the 
Grecian Archipelago, Corsica, Sicily, Sardinia, Malta, and 
also the south coast of the Mediterranean, Algeria, Tunisia, 
the delta of Lower Egypt, Palestine, and Asia Minor ; all 
in variable degree. I must refer to the book itself for the 
data on which this statement is founded. 

The work first appeared as a mere essay on the winter 
climate and vegetation of the Mentone amphitheatre, and was 
published in 1861. It has expanded, in successive editions, 
until it has become a careful meteorological and botanical 
study of the vegetation and of the winter and spring climates 
of the shores and islands of the Mediterranean basin, with 
the exception of Egypt and Palestine. Not having as yet 
visited these countries, I have said but little about them, 
my rule being only to describe localities personally explored. 
The purely scientific character has been, in some measure, 
laid aside, and the thoughts, fancies, and travelling impres- 
sions of a long period of invalidism have been recorded. 

In studying the climate of these various regions of the 



PREFACE. IX 

Mediterranean sea I have taken as my guides Botany 
and Horticulture, because they are the surest, the least 
capable of deceiving. Observations founded on the ther- 
mometer and on the registration of winds are very un- 
certain, and are open to many sources of error. The results 
obtained by their means may be invalidated by bias on the 
part of the observer or by his ignorance of meteorology, by 
imperfect instruments or by a badly-selected locality for 
observation. 

With the vegetable world it is far different, for it cannot 
deceive, and erroneous conclusions are easily avoided by one 
who knows its laws. To its component members, tempera- 
ture is simply a matter of life and death, and the presence 
or absence of a plant in a locality says more than would 
pages of thermometrical observations. Plants, moreover, 
reveal much more than mere temperature, for they are in- 
fluenced in life, health, and luxuriance by moisture or dry- 
ness, by wind or by calm, and by the nature of the soil in 
which they grow. 

At the same time I have avoided entering into minute 
botanical details, or giving long lists of plants, for my 
object was not botanical research and exactness ; I have 
wished merely to study climate through vegetation. I 
have wished to ascertain by the observation of common 
trees, shrubs and flowers, and of their epoch of producing 
foliage and flowers, the difference that exists between 
the winter and spring climate of different regions of the 
Mediterranean as compared with the north of Europe. 

A more minute study of the Mediterranean Flora would, 
certainly, have rendered this work more valuable in a 
scientific point of view. I am, however, on the one hand, 
scarcely prepared for such a study by previous labours in 
the direction of purely scientific botany, and on the other 
I might have repelled mere medical and general readers, to 
whom I more especially address myself, and who, as a rule, 
are unacquainted with the minutiae of botanical science. 

As, however, my descriptions of natural phenomena were 
written on the spot, and may be considered careful mental 
photographs of what actually exists in the regions described, 
they may prove useful even to scientific readers. Professed 



X PREFACE. 

botanists, meteorologists and geologists, may see more in. 
my descriptions than I myself see, with a more limited 
knowledge of these sciences. 

In every region of the Mediterranean examined, both 
on the north and south shores and on the islands, 
the ground in any given point is occupied, according to soil, 
by pretty nearly the same plants in a general sense. In 
other words, although, in any region a botanist might find 
in a square mile several hundred species, yet the ground is 
actually occupied by a limited number of species ; they are 
the real inhabitants of the country, and shoulder the rarer 
species out of the way into holes and corners as it were. 
Probably this is the case everywhere, and makes the study 
of vegetation, in a superficial sense, a much easier matter 
than it is generally supposed to be. Moreover, the Flora of 
the entire Mediterranean basin is everywhere very similar, 
indeed all but identical in its main features, for the same 
soils and under the same conditions of protection and 
temperature. This will be perceived by my descriptions of 
vegetation, and must be the explanation and excuse for 
their sameness. 

Although many of the regions described were visited 
several times in the course of my fifteen years' rambles, I 
have adhered throughout to the narrative style, preserving 
the first written descriptions. First impressions have, or 
ought to have, a freshness about them which constitutes 
the charm of a book of travels, if charm it has; these first 
impressions are essentially fugitive, they can never be re- 
called. We never again see even the loveliest scene in 
nature with the feelings that were first roused in our 
minds. I have, however, modified and supplemented 
" first impressions" whenever necessary, so as to secure 
correctness. 



The Ferns, Weybrjdge, Surrey/* „ 
Grosvenor Street, London. 



Mentone, France (Winter). 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Introductory remarks — The Mediterranean basin and its climate 1 
PART I. 

THE NORTH SHORES OP THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

THE WESTERN RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

CHAPTER I. 

Mentone — Situation — Climate as shown by vegetation . . 8 

CHAPTER II. 

Geology — The cretaceous or secondary period — The nummulitic 
or tropical period — The conglomerate and glacial period — 
The Bone caverns — Pre-historic man . . . .39 

CHAPTER III. 

Physical geography and meteorology of the Riviera and 

of Mentone 63 

CHAPTER IV. 

Flowers and horticulture on the Riviera 95 

CHAPTER V. 

The Mediterranean — History — Navigation — Tides — Depth- 
Sounding — Storms — Temperature — Fish — A naturalist's 
preserve — Blue colour — The St. Louis rocks . . . 122 



Xll CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VI. 

PAGE 

The climate of the Genoese Riviera and of Mentone considered 

medically 152 

CHAPTER VII. 

Mentone in its social aspect — Amusements — Drives — Rides — 
Pedestrian excursions — Mountain villages — Casino — 
Churches — Social life 173 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Western Italy — The two Rivieras — Eastern Italy — Bologna — 

Ancona— Taranto — Brindisi 207 

CHAPTER IX. 

Spain — Carthagena — Murcia — Elche — Alicante — Valencia — 
Cordova — Seville — Malaga — Granada— Madrid — Vallado- 
lid — Burgos 245 

CHAPTER X. 

Corfu and the Ionian Islands — Greece and the Archipelago — 

Constantinople — The Danube . . . . . 292 



PART II. 

THE LARGE ISLANDS OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

CHAPTER XI. 

Corsica — Its physical, geological, botanical, and social charac- 
teristics — Its history — Its climate— Ajaccio and Bastia as 
winter climates — Orezza and Guagno as summer stations 
— Sartene — Bonifacio and the eastern coast . . . 331 



CONTENTS. XU1 



CHAPTER XII. 

PAGB 

Sicily — The departure — Climate as shown by vegetation — 
Palermo — Messina— Catania — Mount Etna — Syracuse — 
The return 405 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Sardinia — The voyage— La Maddelena — The Straits of Boni- 
facio — Physical geography — Porto Torres — S assari — 
Osilio — Oristano— Iglesias — The zinc and lead mines — 
The Campidani — Cagliari . . . . . . . 458 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Malta — The voyage from Tunis — Physical geography — Yaletta 
— Vegetation — The interior — Cultivation — The St. Antonio 
gardens — Winds — Rainfall 484 



PART III. 

THE SOUTH SHORES OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

CHAPTER XV. 

Algiers and Algeria — The sea voyage — Algiers— The experi- 
mental garden — The Trappist monastery — Kabylia — Fort 
Napoleon — Blidah— The Chiffa Gorge — Milianah — Teniet- 
el-Had— The Cedar forest— The Desert— The valley of the 
Cheliff — Orleansville — Oran — Climate and medical conclu- 
sions 492 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Tunis and Tunisia — Arrival — Railroad— The city — The Bardo 

— Vegetation — Gardens— Climate — The ruins of Carthage 566 

CHAPTER XVII. 

Smyrna and Asia Minor— The Gulf of Smyrna — The city — 

Vegetation — Climate — A fire — The ruins of Ephesus . 574 



XIV CONTENTS. 



PART IV. 

THE ITALIAN LAKES— BIAEEITZ-AECACHON-THEE- 
MOMETEICAL TABLES AND EEMAEKS — THE 
JOUENEY TO THE MEDITEEEANEAN AND THE 
EETUEN. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

PAGE 

The Italian lakes — Lake Iseo — Como — Lugano — Maggiore — 
Orta — The Scotch Lochs— Loch Awe — Loch Maree — 
Iselle — The Simplon Pass 581 

CHAPTEE XIX. 

Biarritz — Biarritz as an autumn and winter residence — 
Situation— Climate — Seabathing — The late Imperial resi- 
dence — Arcachon ^ -------- qq^ 

CHAPTEE XX. 
Thermometrical Tables and Eemarks » . 617 

CHAPTEE XXI. 

The journey from England to the Mediterranean — The Eeturn 630 



LIST OF MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 



The Engravings and Maps to be bound opposite the page. 

PA6E 
FBONTISPIECE. PANOEAMA OF THE MENTONE AMPHITHEATBE. 

PANOEAMA MAP OF THE GULF OF GENOA AND OF THE SUB- 

BOUNDING MOUNTAINS 1 

SWALLOW OUTWABD BOUND , 7 

VIEW OF THE EASTEBN SIDE OF THE MENTONE AMPHITHEATEE 12 

THE LEMON GIEL 19 

THE OLD OLIVE TBEE 20 

GEOLOGICAL CHABT 40 

FOSSIL NUMMULITES 42 

THE BONE CAVEEHS 50 

PBE-ADAMITE FLINT INSTEUMENTS ......... 53 

THE FOSSIL MAN , 55 

MI ITALIAN GABDEN (ENTRANCE) 96 

MY ITALIAN GABDEN (LEISUBE HOUBS) 102 

THE DEVIL FISH 136 

THE ST. LOUIS BOCKS AND BBIDGE 148 

PANOEAMA MAP OF MEN TONE 174 

THE DONKEY WOMAN , 185 

THE DONKEY BOY 186 

THE OLD TOWN OF MENTONE 194 

THE BOED1GHEEA PALM GEOVE 230 

PANOEAMA MAP OF SPAIN 245 

TICKET OFFICE FOB THE BULL-FIGHT 250 

THE ALHAMBEA — COUBT OF LIONS 284 

THE ALHAMBBA 291 

PANOEAMA MAP OF COBSICA 331 



XVI LIST OF MAPS AND ILLUSTRATIONS. 

PASB 

COBSICAN MOUNTAINS AT SUNEISE 332 

PANOEAMA MAP OF SICILY 405 

PANOEAMA MAP OF SABDINIA 459 

PANOEAMA MAP OF ALGESIA 493 

VIEW OF ALGIEES . 497 

VEILED AEAB WOMAN 499 

AEAB MENDICANT 500 

OLD NEGBO MUSICIANS *. 501 

AEAB GIEL . 502 

STEEET AT ALGIEES 504 

JEW COFFEE SELLEE . 505 

DANCING GIEL 507 

THE TEAPPIST ZOUAVE 520 

KABYLE VILLAGE AND WOMEN 534 

THE AEAB TENT 558 

EUFFIE 631 

THE SWALLOW HOMEWAED BOUND 646 

PANOEAMA MAP OF THE MEDITEEEANEAN BASIN (AT END OF 

INDEX) 656 



The Maps contained in this work are chromolithographed by 
M. Erhard, of Paris. 

The Frontispiece is chromolithographed from a water- colour of 
Mr. E. Binyon, by Messrs. Brooks. The woodcuts are by Messrs. 
Butterworth and Heath, from sketches and from photographs by 
M. Davenne and by Mr. W. Rouch. The Algerine wood engrav- 
ings are principally from photographs by Messrs. Geiser, of 
Algiers. 




IWparErhara.tt.r. buguajTro^ ,Pa^ 



WINTER AND SPRING 



ON THE 



SHORES OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. 



INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 

THE MEDITERRANEAN BASIN AND ITS CLIMATE. 

The fifteen winters that I have spent on the Genoese 
Riviera in study and meditation, the year and a half 
devoted, in April and. May, to the exploration of the Medi- 
terranean shores and islands, have produced their fruits. 
I have attained a much more comprehensive knowledge of 
the climate of the Mediterranean generally, as also of its 
vegetation, than I possessed when the first editions of this 
work were published. By degrees, as my personal ex- 
perience of the different regions of the great inland sea has 
extended, as my knowledge of its vegetation has increased, 
the laws which regulate and decide the Mediterranean 
climates have become clearer, more precise. It is my wish 
and intention in these introductory remarks to state, lucidly 
and concisely, what these laws are. They will constitute 
the key to the entire work, and will find their explanation 
and elucidation in each successive chapter. 

Climate may be said to be the result of geographical 
conditions and of proximity to land or w r ater. Weather 
depends on seasons and on " which way the wind 
blows/' 

Except in the Tropics, winds from the north are cold in 
winter, cool in summer ; whilst winds from the south are 
mild in winter, hot in summer. Again, both in winter and 
summer, winds north or south are dry if they come over 

B 



GU/ 



OF GENOA (AND THE PROTECTING MOUNTAIN^ ) 




3j 4o 5o kilom_ 



it i6Jtlilles 



2 THE MEDITERRANEAN BASIN. 

continents and mountains, moist if they come over water, 
ocean, sea, or' lake. 

These data are susceptible of so general an application 
that a person possessed of a moderate knowledge of meteor- 
ology and of physical geography might almost determine 
the climate of any region of the earth without leaving his 
stud}^. 

The Mediterranean, the earth's " great inland sea," is 
comprised between latitude 45° and 30° North, and between 
longitude 5° W. and 36° E. Its width from the Straits of 
Gibraltar to Syria is 2200 miles. Its breadth at the nar- 
rowest part, between Sicily and Africa, is 79 miles; at the 
broadest part, from the head of the Adriatic to Africa, 
1200 miles. (Fide Map at end.) 

The North shores of the Mediterranean, from Gibraltar 
to Constantinople, are fringed by mountains, generally 
abutting on the shores, which constitute the southern 
extremity of the continent, of Europe. The South shores 
of the Mediterranean are partly occupied by a narrow range 
of mountains and mountain land (Atlas) and partly by the 
desert of Sahara, which covers a great portion of the con- 
tinent of Africa. The great desert begins behind the Atlas 
range, not more than a hundred miles from the sea, and 
reaches its shores between Tripoli and Syria. The desert 
of Sahara is believed to be the hottest region in the world. 
The islands of the Mediterranean are all mountainous. 
They may be said to be the summits of submarine moun- 
tains and of mountain ranges. 

Thus the Mediterranean is a subtropical region by lati- 
tude. Physically it is a deep depression or basin, com- 
municating with the ocean, fringed continuously with high 
mountains on its north shore, bounded by lower mountains 
and by the greatest and hottest desert of the globe on its 
southern shore. 

From its subtropical position the sun is very powerful, 
winter and summer, all over the Mediterranean, when not 
obscured by clouds. From its geographical position, sur- 
rounded by land and by continents, <cloudy weather is not 
very frequent, nor is rain very abundant, so that the climate 
is exceptionally sunny, winter as well as summer. As the 



INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 6 

atmosphere also is generally dry, the sky is generally clear 
and blue, and the rays of the snn have actually more power 
than in the tropics. 

In winter, when the continent of Europe is bound up in 
frost and covered with snow, when the mountains of Nor- 
way and Sweden, the Baltic and Polar regions, are one mass 
of ice, a north wind, crossing the Mediterranean in a few 
hours, brings cold weather to the entire inland sea, to its 
islands, and to its southern shores. Thus in wiuter it is often 
cold, and occasionally freezes at Algiers, Tunis, Alexandria, 
Beyrut. Hoar frost may be seen day after day at sunrise 
in the desert of Sahara, south of the Atlas (Tristam). 

In spring, in April and even in May, a cold north wind may 
bring cool, even chilly, weather to these southern regions. 
I have been quite cold, with a north-west wind, at, Athens 
on the 12th of April. This very year (1874), during the 
first week in May, at Tunis, the nights were cool, below 
60° Fah., and the day not above 68° or 70° in a west room. 

In winter, on the other hand, a south-west equatorial 
wind, or a south-east Sahara wind {scirocco), lasting several 
days, will bring mild weather, not only all over the Medi- 
terranean, but all over Europe, up to St. Petersburg. 

In spring, in April and May, the same winds, especially 
the south-east or Sahara wind, may bring intense heat to 
all parts of the Mediterranean, ana what is usually, but 
irrationally, termed "unseasonable heat" to all parts of the 
continent of Europe, as far north as St. Petersburg. Such 
heat and such winds, however, in spring never last more 
than a few days either in the Mediterranean or in conti- 
nental Europe, the north winds resuming their sway. In- 
deed Europe may be said to lie between an ice house, the 
polar regions, and a furnace, the desert of Sahara. 

Thus, in no part of the Mediterranean basin, shores, and 
islands, is there an immunity from cold and frost in winter 
from mere latitude; neither is there anywhere — glorious 
as is the spring — perfect immunity from chilly winds or 
weather in spring from mere latitude. 

Immunity from cold wind in winter and from chilly wind 
in spring can only be secured, even in the Mediterranean, 
by the protection of high mountains running east and west. 



4 THE MEDITERRANEAN BASIN. 

Mountain ridges and masses which run from east to west 
intercept north winds, whether these winds are north-east 
or north-west. Mountain ridges running from north to 
south, as the Apennines, intercept one of these winds only, 
the north-east or the north-west, according to the side on 
which the observer is placed. They do not intercept both, 
so that the protection they give from north winds is only 
partial. 

The degree of protection given by mountain ridges, 
whether running east and west or north and south, depends 
on several conditions — the height of the mountains, their 
slope, as the more perpendicular they are the greater the 
protection ; the depth and extent of the mountain region ; 
the proximity of the observer to the base of the mountain, 
for the nearer he is the greater the protection. This latter 
fact is illustrated by fruit trees in an orchard ; those nailed 
to the sheltering w 7 all are more protected from a north 
wind blowing over it than those that are planted at some 
distance from its base. 

The maps appended to this work have been specially 
engraved according to my directions, so as to give the 
relative elevation and power of the mountains of southern 
Europe and of the Mediterranean basin. They are intended 
to afford a panoramic view of the Mediterranean regions as 
seen from above, and to illustrate the great and important 
question of protection from north winds. 

Notwithstanding all my travels in the Mediterranean, 
all my researches and investigations into the climate of its 
various regions, I have hitherto failed to discover a locality 
more sheltered from cold winds, frost, and rain, than the 
Genoese Western Riviera, especially the region extending 
'from Yille Franche to St. Hemo. Indeed I have not found 
as yet a region where the vegetation is as southern, or gives 
evidence of as much shelter, with the exception of the base of 
the mountains in the vicinity of Malaga or the base of the 
Dalmatian mountains, in front and north of Corfu. 

Thus the prepossessions of the mere tourist which led 
me to settle as an invalid at Men tone, on the Riviera, in 
1859, have been justified by subsequent research and ex- 
perience. That it should be so will be at once apparent to 



INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 

any who cast their eye over the map of the Gulf of Genoa at 
the beginning of the next chapter. It will be seen at once 
that not only is there in this region marked protection from 
the north, but also from the north-east and north-west. 
High, deep mountains form a semicircle round the Gulf of 
Genoa, such as is not to be found in any other part of the 
Mediterranean. 

The peculiarly mild climate of the coast-line of the Gulf 
of Genoa, known under the name of Riviera di Levante and 
Riviera di Ponente, or Eastern and Western Riviera, is 
indeed much more referable to the protection afforded by 
mountain ranges than to latitude. The Alps and Apennines 
form an immense screen to the north-east. The Swiss Alps, 
which terminate rather abruptly in the plains of Piedmont 
by the grand Alpine heights of Mont Cenis, Mont St. 
Bernard, Mont Simplon, are continued in Savoy and Dau- 
phiny down to the Mediterranean at Toulon, Hyeres, 
Cannes, and Nice. From Nice the mountain range, which 
then takes the name of Maritime Alps, skirts the shore of 
the Gulf of Genoa in a north-easterly direction as far as 
that city, and in a south-easterly direction as far as Lucca. 
At Genoa it unites with the Apennines, or rather becomes 
the Apennines. At Lucca, leaving the coast, the Apennines 
occupy Central Italy, forming a kind of backbone, as far 
south as Reor-oio. 

Owing to this latter geographical fact Italy is less 
sheltered than the coast of the Gulf of Genoa, and the 
health climates of Italy are limited to its western shores. 
The Apennines separate Italy into two longitudinal sections, 
from Genoa to the straits of Messina, and as these mountains 
rise from four to nine thousand feet in height, they constitute 
a barrier which protects the entire western coast-line from 
the north-east winds of central and northern Europe. Thence 
a totally different winter climate throughout the Italinn 
peninsula, on the east and west of the Apennine ridge. On 
the eastern, or Adriatic side, in the plains of Piedmont, 
Umbria, and the Marches, owing to the predominance of 
the cold winds from the centre and east of Europe, the 
winter and spring are very cold, much colder than on the 
western or Mediterranean side, the one on which we find 



6 THE MEDITERRANEAN BASIN. 

the Italian pleasure cities, Pisa, Florence, Rome, Naples. 
The western coast of Italy is not only protected from the 
north-east winds, which are the coldest in winter in Europe, 
but it is open to the warm south-west winds, which very 
often blow from the Mediterranean during autumn and 
spring, and bring with them warm sea-currents. At the 
same time, it is entirely open to the north-west winds, which 
in winter are often very keen. The Western Riviera, on the 
contrary, is also sheltered from these north-west winds. 

Protection from the north-\vinds, and exposure to the 
south-winds, however, gives to the entire region from Toulon 
to Pisa, a mildness of winter climate which latitude alone 
would not impart, differing in degree according to locality. 
Thus Mentone and Monaco, two of the most sheltered and 
warmest spots on the north coast of the Mediterranean, are 
situated only in latitude 43° 45', between thirty and forty 
milts more to the north than Toulon (43° 7') or Marseilles 
(43° IV); but the latter are, the one less protected, the 
other unprotected, northwards, by mountain ranges, and 
consequently at Marseilles very sharp frosts take place every 
winter. Nor is this surprising when we consider that in 
the north and centre of Europe the ground is often covered 
with snow for many months during winter, and that a high 
wind travels at the rate of from thirty to forty miles an 
hour. The distance, say from the highest Swiss mountain, 
as represented by Mont Blanc, to the Mediterranean is not 
more than a hundred and sixty miles. A strong north wind 
will not only reach the coast-line in a few hours, where 
unimpeded by mountains, bringing with it cold weather to 
all unprotected regions, but it will cross the Mediterranean 
and bring cold rains, and even frost, to Algeria, and to the 
north of Africa. 

During the winter the most protected and warmest part 
of this south-eastern coast of France and western coast of 
Italy, the undercliff of central Europe, is unquestionably 
the Riviera di Ponente, or Western Riviera, extending from 
Nice to Genoa. The exceptionally mild winter climate of 
this region is principally to be attributed to the great height 
of the mountain range skirting the shore, and to its extreme 
proximity to the sea. As one of its names implies, Cornice, 



INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 7 

the Riviera is a mere ledge or coast-line at the foot of the 
mountains, which protect it north-west and north-east. 

My knowledge of the winter climate and of the vegeta- 
tion of the Mediterranean is principally derived from my 
fifteen winters' residence at Mentone, on the Western 
Riviera ; but my spring travels have shown me that the 
general physical, geological, meteorological, and botanical 
conditions of the Mediterranean shores and islands are so 
far identical that the facts observed in one region apply to 
all, with such modifications as the greater or less amount 
of shelter and the nature of the soil imply. 

I purpose, therefore, in the first part of this work to 
describe the north shore of the Mediterranean, taking as 
an illustration its most sheltered region, the Western 
Riviera. With this intention I shall more especially study 
the climate, geology, and vegetation of the Mentone 
amphitheatre, adding a general account of the Mediter- 
ranean Sea. In the second part I shall describe the large 
islands of the Mediterranean ; and in the third part its 
south shore. 

The opening of the railway from Paris to Nice and 
Genoa has rendered the lovely Riviera very easy of access, 
even to confirmed invalids, and I believe that the time is 
fast approaching when tens of thousands from the north of 
Europe will adopt the habits of the swallow, and transform 
every town and village on its coast into sunny winter 
retreats. I may remark that it is the first point of the 
Mediterranean shore where birds of passage from the north 
make a halt for the winter. 




OUTWARD BOTJSD. 



PART I. 

THE NORTH SHORE OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. 



THE WESTERN RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 
CHAPTER I. 

MENTONE — SITUATION CLIMATE AS SHOWN BY VEGETATION. 

" Indi i monti Ligustici e Riviera 

Clie cor aranci e sempre verdi mirti, 
Quasi avendo perpetna primavera 
Sparge per l'aria, bene olenti spirti." 

Ariosto, Canto primo, lxxii. 

There are few old Italian travellers to whose mind the 
word " Riviera" does not recall the recollection of happy 
days of leisurely vetturino progress, along a sunny, pic- 
turesque shore, overshadowed by bold mountains, and 
inhabited by fishermen who, on a fine autumnal evening, 
often seem to realize the scene of the market chorus in 
" Masaniello." When, overtaken by ill health, I was 
obliged to abandon the hard work of active life, it was a 
consolation to me to know that I could migrate to this sun- 
favoured coast, and conscientiously spend the dreary winter, 
in legitimate idleness, on a shore which memory painted in 
glowing colours. In this instance the memories of the past 
were fully verified by the realities of actual experience; and 
now that rest and mild southern winters have restored me, 
in a measure, to health, I am desirous to make known the 
Riviera and Mentone to the tribe of sufferers obliged to fly 
in winter from the British Isles; for our beloved country is 
"merrie,"" in winter, only for the hale and strong, who can 
defy and enjoy the cutting winds, the rain, the snow, and 
the frost of a northern land. 

Along the entire Riviera there is no more picturesque spot 
than the one in which Mentone lies, encircled by its amphi- 



SITUATION. 9 

theatre of mountains ; my selection of a winter home was 
thus a fortunate one. 

Men tone is a small Italian town of five thousand inhabi- 
tants, situated in latitude 43° 45', nineteen miles east of 
Nice, at the foot of the Maritime Alps. It is the first 
station out of Nice, on the Cornice road to Genoa, and was 
the largest town of the principality of Monaco before its 
annexation to France, along with Nice. 

The Gulf of Genoa is formed between Nice and Lucca,, 
by the Maritime Alps and the Apennines, the immense 
masses of which descend to the sea so abruptly in some 
places as to leave no shore, their beetling crags terminating 
directly in the sea. This is the case immediately behind 
and to the eastward of Nice. Owing to this circumstance, 
there was formerly no continuous carriage road from Nice 
to Genoa. The land communication between these cities 
was carried on by means of a very picturesque, but very 
unsafe mule track, along the rocky coast. The carriage 
road that now exists was commenced by Napoleon at the 
beginning of the century, as a military road, all but 
indispensable when Italy was annexed to the French He- 
public. He left it in an unfinished state, but it has since 
then been completed by successive Governments. Until 
within the last few years this road was very unsafe 
after heavy rains, owing to the absence of bridges over 
some of the torrent rivers, and to frequent landslips. 
After the tropical rains to which the Riviera is exposed and 
which descend from the mountains that fringe its shores, these 
rivers roll immense masses of water to the sea, and thus either 
become impassable for a time, or are crossed with difficulty, 
and even danger. In days still quite recent, every winter, 
carriages were overturned and carried towards the sea, 
and sometimes travellers drowned, but such catastrophes 
have now ceased to occur, most of the rivers being 
crossed by good bridges. 

The road has been carried in many places over and 
along high mountains and precipitous cliffs. Where the 
shore exists, it is generally a mere rocky, shingly, or 
sandy ledge or beach, from winch the mountains rise directly. 
In some points, however, where rivers reach the sea, theret 



10 THE RIVIEEA AND MENTONE. 

are small plains at the foot of the mountains, as at 
Andora. 

On leaving Nice for Genoa, the road at once begins to 
ascend the Turbia, a shoulder of the Aggel. This moun- 
tain is about 3000 feet high, and is one of the spurs 
that run directly into the sea. The fair city of Nice lies 
at its western base. The ascent occupies two hours, 
the road reaching an elevation of 2100 feet, two miles 
before arriving at the village of Turbia. The descent 
occupies an hour and a half, and at its termination is 
situated Mentone. As the traveller ascends the Turbia 
from Nice, he obtains a very beautiful panoramic view 
of the town, and of the mountain-circled plain in 
which it lies. The eye rests with interest and pleasure 
on the eminence that commands Nice, crowned in former 
days by the old fortress, near the outlet to the valley of 
the Paillon river which pierces the background of huge 
mountains to the north-east, and on the beautiful coast- 
line, as far as the distant Esterel range. It is a very 
lovely view, especially in the afternoon, when the sun, 
passing to the south-west, casts its radiance over the 
scene. Indeed, I should advise travellers Mentone bound, 
not pressed for time, or over-burdened with travelling 
" impedimenta," to abandon the railway at Nice, and to 
drive to Mentone, hiring a private carriage for the purpose. 
There is not a more beautilul drive in Europe, and by rail 
it is entirely lost. The start from Nice should be made 
about twelve o'clock, so as to have the south-western sun 
to illumine the road all the way. First impressions are of 
great importance, and the drive from Nice to Mentone is 
so picturesque that it should always be taken by health 
tourists, and especially by future sojourners at Mentone, 
provided the weather be fine. 

The railway, now open from Nice to Mentone, on the 
Italian frontier, much facilitates this stage of the journey, 
to those who wish to travel rapidly. Moreover, skirting 
the foot of the mountains, passing across lovely bays, 
through many short tunnels, it gives glimpses of much 
picturesque coast scenery. Still, the traveller who adopts 
it loses many beautiful mountain views, of a character 



SITUATION. 1 1 

totally different from what is seen in mountain regions in 
the north of Europe. 

When the village of Turbia has been reached, and the 
descent begins, a panorama even more glorious presents 
itself to the eye. At our feet lies Monaco, crowning a 
promontory that advances into the sea and forms a small 
port. As the road descends, winding along the mountain 
side, a brown sun-burnt village is seen— Roccabruna, 
clinging to the rocks. Then a corner is turned, and 
behold a magnificent mountain amphitheatre appears, that 
of Mentone. The higher mountains, receding round a 
beautiful bay opening to the south-east, form this amphi- 
theatre, the centre of which is about two miles from the 
sea-shore. 

The coast outline, which is about four miles in circuit, is 
divided into two unequal bays, the east and the west, by a 
hilly spur or buttress gradually sloping from one of the 
higher mountains to the sea, and on the sides of which 
climb the houses that constitute the old town of Mentone. 
The space between the sea and the mountains forming the 
amphitheatre, mountains between 3000 and 4000 feet high, 
is occupied by a series of hills which rest on the flanks of 
the higher range. They slope gently to the shore, and are 
rent by numerous ravines and torrential valleys. The 
higher mountains, of a greyish-white oolitic limestone, are 
generally precipitous and bare, with the exception of a few 
groves of maritime firs. Most ol the lower hills, which 
rise to a height of from 500 to 1500 feet, are densely 
covered with olive-trees, and present at a distance the 
aspect of tree-covered, rounded ridges, gently descending 
to the sea. 

The entire bay and the town of Mentone, with the back- 
ground of swelling olive-clad hills, closed in by the amphi- 
theatre of mountains, are thus thoroughly protectad from 
the north-west, north, and north-east winds. The position 
of the town, with reference to the bays, will be best under- 
stood by referring to the frontispiece, which is taken from 
some projecting rocks at the eastern extremity of the 
eastern bay. 

To thoroughly understand and appreciate the district, 



12 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

and its singularly protected character, a boat should be 
taken and the panorama viewed a mile or two from the 
shore. The extreme beauty of the coast will amply repay 
the trouble. Thus seen, all the details are blended into one 
harmonious whole ; the two bays becoming one, and the 
little town scarcely dividing them. The grandeur of the 
semicircular range of mountains, generally steeped in 
glorious sunshine, also comes out in broad outline. These 
mountains positively appear to partly encircle the Men- 
tonian amphitheatre in their arms, to separate it and its 
inhabitants from the world at large, and to present them to 
the blue Mediterranean waves, and to the warm southern 
sunshine. 

Behind the mountains which form the background of 
the Mentonian ridges and valleys, are still higher moun- 
tains rising" in successive ranges to an altitude of from 
5000 to 9000 feet. The higher ranges constitute the main, 
chain of the Maritime Alps. They extend from east to 
north-west far inland, until they mingle with the high 
Alps of Savoy and Dauphiny. The presence of this second 
and higher mountain range greatly increases the protection 
afforded to the coast-line by the lower one, and partly ex- 
plains its exceptional immunity from the winter cold of 
continental Europe. 

Thus, the Mentone amphitheatre, being only open to the 
south south-east and south-west, the mistral, as a north- 
west wind, is not at all felt, and but slightly as a deflected 
south-west wind. All the northerly winds pass over the 
higher mountains and fall into the sea at some distance — 
several miles from the shore. When they feign, there is a 
calm not only in the bay at Mentone, but for some distance 
from the shore; whilst at a few miles distance the sea 
may be crested, white and furious. This is constantly ob- 
served on ascending high ground. Owing to the Men to- 
nian bay opening to the south-east, the south-east (the 
scirocco), the direct south and the south-west winds, blow 
directly into the bay, and when strong occasion a heavy, 
rolling swell. These southerly winds, to which alone 
Mentone is directly exposed, are never cold. When, how- 
ever, hurricanes reign in continental Europe from the 



■*feV' ., '-."- 




CLIMATE AND VEGETATION. 13 

north-west or north-east, the wind sometimes turns round 
the protecting mountains west and east, and is really felt on 
the shore line, much to the surprise of those who have been 
told that north winds cannot by any possibility reach this 
favoured region. 

Climate as shown by Vegetation. 

Owing to the complete protection the mountains afford 
to Mentone from the west, north-west, north, and north- 
east winds, owing to its southern exposure, and to the re- 
flection of the sun's rays from the sides of the naked 
limestone mountains which form the amphitheatre, its 
winter climate is warmer than that of Nice, its neighbour; 
indeed, it is warmer than that of any part of the northern 
or central regions of Italy. That such is the case is shown 
by the vegetation. The latitude of Palermo, five degrees 
further south, must be reached, to find the same vegetation 
as at Mentone — groves of lemon-trees growing in the open 
air, like apple-trees in an English orchard. Even at 
Palermo, which looks to the north, the lemon orchards are 
protected by walls, or the trees are planted in ravines, as I 
have found to be the case in the warmest regions of the 
Mediterranean, wherever the lemon grows and thrives. 

The peculiar mildness of the winter may also be partly 
accounted for on geothermal (earth heat) grounds. It is 
well known that even in England the warmth imparted to 
the surface of the ground by summer heat is not exhausted 
by radiation until the winter be far advanced. Thus, at 
three feet from the surface it is only at the end of January 
that the soil has cooled to its lowest point ; that is, has 
exhausted by radiation the heat accumulated during 
summer. How much greater must be the winter radiation 
of summer-accumulated heat in a locality like Mentone, 
surrounded by an amphitheatre of limestone rocks, which 
become heated to an extreme extent during the long 
summer days, under the rays of an all but tropical sun, 
and in a cloudless sky ! The importance of this element, 
in the consideration of climate, will be better appreciated 
when we know that it takfts several months for a thermo- 
meter to cool down after the glass tube has been closed by 



14 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

momentary exposure to the flame of the blowpipe.* It is 
only after that lapse of time that the glass has regained a 
normal state, and that it can be graduated, when scientific 
precision is in view. So retentive of heat are most solid 
bodies, and so long a period of time does it take for them to 
lose by radiation heat once acquired. 

The exceptional warmth of the winter climate of Men- 
tone, even for the Riviera, is proved, beyond all question or 
doubt, by the presence of groves of large, healthy Lemon- 
trees, which ripen their fruit every year in the fullest 
perfection, in nearly all the ravines and on the warmer 
hill-sides, wherever water can be obtained. Constant 
irrigation, summer and winter, is necessary for their culti- 
vation, as well as great summer heat and a mild winter 
temperature. The Lemon-trees are, indeed, much more 
numerous than the Orange-trees, although many fine 
plantations of the latter are found throughout the district. 
The presence, however, of Orange and Lemon-trees grow- 
ing in healthy luxuriance, as forest trees, in the open air, 
does not prove that we have reached a tropical climate, 
where cold is unknown. When the weather is dry, and the 
sky is covered with clouds, which arrest terrestrial radia- 
tion, the fruit of the Orange-tree will bear 7° Fall, below 
the freezing point, without injury, and Orange-trees them- 
selves are only killed by 11 degrees of frost. The Lemon 
fruit, under similar circumstances, can only bear 5° without 
injury, and the trees are killed by 8° or 9°. But if the cold 
weather sets in alter a thaw, or after rain, if the atmosphere 
is loaded with moisture, or if the sky is cloudless, and the 
radiation from the earth is thus rapid at night, either the 
fruit or the trees may perish at a much higher temperature. 
The inhabitants of southern districts seem to think that a 
less amount of frost is fatal to Lemon and Orange-trees ; 
but my own experience during many winters corroborates 
the above data, taken from Roubaudr's work on Nice — a 
very scientific book. 

On one side of the eastern bay, near the Pont St. Louis, 
the warmest and most sheltered region of Mentone, the 



* Drew's Practical Meteorology, p. 42. 



CLIMATE AND VEGETATION. 15 

side of the mountain is partially covered with Lemon-trees, 
which ascend on terraces to a considerable height above the 
sea. They are in flower, and perfume the air at all seasons. 
In these u warm terraces/'' protected from all winds but 
the south, exposed to the sun from morning to night, 
winter may be said not to exist. Throughout its entire 
duration insect life is abundant. The lively lizard never 
hybernates, but daily basks and sports in the sun, and the 
brilliant dragon-fly may be seen darting about in mid- 
winter. The spider spins his web, finding abundant food, 
and the swallows or rather the martins never migrate ; 
they are constantly seen circling among the rocks. The 
Harebell, the red Valerian, Violets, and our own pretty 
Veronica, flower in December and January in this favoured 
spot long before they appear elsewhere. 

The lemons produced at Mentone are known throughout 
Northern Europe and America, and fetch a high price. 
.The Lemon-tree flowers here all the year through, never 
resting — a fact which implies constant and active vegeta- 
tion, without any period of repose. The crop is gathered 
at four different epochs, the trees bearing at the same time 
flowers and fruits of all sizes. The existence of large 
Lemon-trees in grove?, from twenty to thirty, or more, 
years old, without artificial protection, and their profitable 
cultivation throughout the year, prove that where they 
grow there must have been freedom from severe frost for 
many years. I was informed, however, that about thirty 
3^ears ago nearly all the Lemon-trees in the country were 
destroyed in one night, which may account for no very old 
trees being seen. 

During the fifteen winters that I have passed at Mentone 
I have found a great difference in the degree and the severity 
of the cold from year to year. In the more severe winters, 
with a northerly wind, I have repeatedly known the ther- 
mometer to descend below zero several nights consecutively, 
near the sea-shore, and at the outlet of the torrent beds, 
especially in the western bay. Slight films of ice then form 
on shallow pools on the road and near the torrents, especially 
in the western bay, which is more exposed to down-draughts 
from the mountains; and the higher mountain range may 



16 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

be covered with, snow to the level of the olive groves. This 
untoward state of things generally occasions great dismay- 
in the minds of the inhabitants, whose principal riches are 
the lemon groves. 1 have known many sit up for several 
nights, in the greatest consternation, watching the ther- 
mometer. Indeed, there is in these cases quite a panic with 
reference to the lamentable condition of the weather. Such 
feelings and fears plainly indicate that frost and snow are 
unusual and unwelcome visitors. Snow often, however, lies 
for several days on the higher mountains, thereby giving 
them a most picturesque, Swiss-like appearance. 

On very exceptional occasions snow may even fall on the 
shore level, melting as it falls. In January, 1864, there 
was a frost of unusual intensity throughout the south of 
Europe, in Italy and Spain especially. At Mentone it froze 
on the sea-level several nights consecutive^, both in the 
eastern and western bays, and snow fell on the shore-level. 
For several days it lay in northern and shaded situations,, 
although a bright sun was shining. Many Lemon trees 
were killed, and much fruit destroyed; but the trees that 
were killed were all at the outlet of valleys running up to 
the mountains, where they had been planted, I was told, in 
opposition to previous experience. Every twenty or thirty 
years an exceptionally intense frost occurs, and kills the 
Lemon trees in all but really warm and sheltered positions. 
The culture of the lemon being very remunerative, the 
agriculturist is apt to despise these warnings, and to 
endeavour to extend its range. All goes well for a time, 
and then the exceptional frost year occurs, destroys the 
trees imprudently planted, and marks the limit of culti- 
vation. 

It is the same in England. Every now and then a very 
severe winter occurs, and kills many of the shrubs and trees 
imported from all parts of the world, and apparently well 
established in our country. It requires half a century to 
prove the thorough adaptability of a foreign shrub or tree 
+ o a new climate. With us such trees as the Oak, the Elm, 
the Hawthorn, the Chestnut, are either native or really 
acclimatized trees. They do not so readily admit of an 
addition to their number as might at first be imagined. 



CLIMATE AND VEGETATION. 17 

Thus the severe winter of 1860-1 witnessed the destruc- 
tion of many apparently established favourites. 

On no other part of the Cornice road do Lemon-trees 
grow as freely as at Mentone. At Cannes they are all but 
unheard of, and at Nice they only grow in sheltered and 
protected sites, and not luxuriantly. As I have stated, the . 
latitude of Sicily, five degrees farther south, must be reached 
to find them growing with equal luxuriance, and even there 
they are generally protected by walls, and refuse to grow 
wherever there is a down-draught from neighbouring 
mountains. 

The Orange-tree flowers but once in the year, and bears 
one crop of fruit only. It is a more hardy tree, as this 
botanical fact implies, and can bear without injury, as we 
have seen, several degrees of frost. Still, as the fruit 
matures in autumn and winter, it does not attain excellence 
in regions where the winter is cold. There are many fine 
groves of Orange-trees at Mentone, especially the one at 
the base of the Cap Martin. They are, however, always in 
situations sheltered from wind, which they, apparently, 
cannot bear as well as Lemon-trees. Although the trees 
are large, and the fruit ripens well, the oranges are scarcely 
equal to those we get from the Azores, from the Balearic 
Isles, or from Malta. This deficiency, however, appears to 
be owing 1 more to the selection of inferior varieties than to 
defective climate. Some trees in private gardens, and others 
growing near Monaco, only a few miles distant, and in a 
locality presenting the same climate condition, are as good 
as any in Europe if allowed to remain on the tree until 
really ripe. 

To bring out the real sweetness of the orange it should 
be allowed to remain on the tree all summer. It is insipid 
during the hot months, but after the autumn rains fills with 
luscious juice. This is seldom or never done, however, 
where oranges are cultivated for profit. 

There are many varieties of the Orange, some of which 
are much sweeter and ripen earlier than others, as, for 
instance, the Maltese and Majorca orange, but then they 
are mostly thin-skinned, and do not keep as well as the 
thick-skinned or Portugal variety. The latter are, there- 

c 



18 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

fore, preferred as the best for exportation. Oranges in- 
tended for exportation are gathered in January and Feb- 
ruary, before they are ripe, as otherwise they would not 
bear the packing and transport. They do not really become 
ripe and sweet on the tree before April, or even May — long 
alter they redden. Those exposed for sale at Mentone are 
a part of the oranges picked under these conditions. The 
only way, therefore, to have really good oranges is to pur- 
chase the crop of one or more trees, to leave the oranges on 
the tree until they are quite sweet and ripe, which is not 
until April, or even May, and to pick them as wanted. 

The crop of an orange grove or orchard is generally sold 
on the tree, to speculators from Paris, for a given sum. The 
latter undertake the picking and packing, and in January 
and February the town and country are quite alive with 
their operations. Troops of girls and women may be seen 
daily coming down from the mountains with large baskets 
of oranges or lemons poised on their heads. They carry as 
much as a hundred-weight, or more, at a time, with apparent 
ease. They are generally barefooted, to enable them to get 
a better grasp of the rocky paths, and look very picturesque. 
Only the strongest and healthiest girls can undertake this 
work, and that but for a few years. They go to and from 
the mountains, a distance of from two to four miles, several 
times a day, and earn about fifteen pence. 

Throughout the winter the orange groves, covered with 
their golden fruit, forma charming feature in the landscape, 
reminding the looker-on of the garden of the Hesperides of 
olden times. From the regularity of its growth, the abun- 
dance and golden hue of its fruit, the orange -tree is a much 
more picturesque object than the lemon-tree. The fruit of 
the latter is always either green or a pale yellow, and the 
habit of the tree, young or old, is rather straggling. Both 
lemon and orange-trees, whenever they emerge from the 
valleys, on the hill-side, contrast vividly, by their bright 
green tinge, with the sombre hue of the olive-trees. 
» The Olive-tree is the real lord of the Mentonian amphi- 
theatre, covering the lower hills and the base of the higher 
ones to a height of about two thousand feet above the 
level of the sea. In the south of France the olive-tree, 



CLIMATE AND VEGETATION. 



19 



however fertile, is a miserable object. It is generally 
treated as a pollard, is small and dwarfish, and looks much 
like a mutilated dust-covered willow. As soon, however, as 
the Esterel mountains are passed, and Cannes is reached, 
we enter on a different climate, more protected in winter, 
and more suited to its growth. It is allowed to grow as a 
forest tree, and at once assumes a dignity and grandeur 
which quite surprises those who have only seen the stunted 







THE LEMON GIEL. 

specimens of "la belle Provence." The Olive-tree is only 
destroyed by a frost of fifteen or sixteen degrees Fah., so 
that it is not injured or killed on the Riviera by exceptional 
winters, as are the delicate Lemon-trees. But the young 
shoots and the fruit are frozen and irremediably injured 
when the thermometer falls six or seven degrees below the 
freezing point. No frost, however, to which this region is 
exposed, even once in a century, can injure the tree, so that 
it goes on growing indefinitely, and attains its natural 

c 2 



20 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

period of longevity, as do with ns the trees that are natives 
of our country, the Birch, the Beech, the Scotch Fir, and 
the Oak. Like them, it resists the terrible cold of excep- 
tional years, such as the years 1860-61, and reappears in 
spring, hale and vigorous, when whole armies of apparently 
naturalized foreigners have succumbed. 

The longevity of the Olive-tree, in a congenial climate 
like that of Mentone, may indeed be said to be indefinite. 
There are Olive-trees still alive at Monaco, at the Cap 
Martin, and elsewhere, which are supposed to be coeval 
with the Roman empire. It is a slow-growing tree, and 
forms cartloads of hard roots, which fill and cover the 
ground where it stands. When, after several hundred 
years, the trunk decays, the bark remains alive. As the 
decay progresses, the tree splits, as it were, into two, three, 
or more sections. The bark twists and curls round each 
of these decayed sections, and unites on the other side. 
Then, instead of the old tree, we have, in its place, two, 
three, or .more, apparently separate, although in reality all 
growing from the same root.. When these in turn die, 
new shoots spring up from the old roots, and thus the 
life of the tree is indefinitely prolonged. The old Olive- 
groves are, from this cause, indescribably singular and in- 
teresting, presenting on every side evidences of hoary old 
age. All the stages of growth above described may be 
witnessed within the space of a few yards ; and the par- 
tially decayed, partially split, gnarled, twisted, curved 
trunks are picturesque in the extreme. 

The healthy full-grown Olive-tree is really very beautiful. 
It is often as large as a fine old oak, but with fewer 
limbs and a more sparse foliage. In the variety of the 
Olive-tree generally cultivated on the Riviera the terminal 
extremity of the branches hangs down, so as to give it 
the characteristic appearance of a weeping ash or willow. 
The " weeping 5 '' character of the tree is, however, much 
less marked than in those just mentioned, owing to the 
more scanty foliage, and to the extremities of the smaller 
branches only drooping. To some who are sad, to mourners, 
the dense masses of these sombre grey-coloured trees, with 
hanging foliage, give a sorrowful, mournful character to 




AN OLD OLIVE-TREE. 



CLIMATE AND VEGETATION. 21 

the landscape. Bat it is only those who have sadness 
in their hearts, a sadness which reflects on nature, who 
view the Olive-tree in this light. To others, the play of 
the wind on the ever-moving pendulous masses of foliage, 
and that of the sun and light on the dark green leaves, 
especially when seen in masses from a height above, is 
Loth beautiful and soothing. 

I never fully appreciated the beauty of the Olive-tree, 
although I had seen it in its glory in southern Italy, until 
I had passed a winter under the shadow of an Olive- clad 
mountain at 'Mentone. The fact is that the Olive-tree, 
like our own evergreen Spruce and Scotch Fir, is much 
more beautiful in autumn and winter than in summer. 
At the latter period of the year most of the leaves are old, 
and have become browned by the summer heat and by 
at least a year's existence, so that the entire tree often 
assumes a faded, dingy hue. In early summer, too, the 
yellow hue of the pollen of the male flowers of Conifers 
gives a yellowish tinge to the entire tree, owing to their 
extreme abundance. In spring the new leaves of the ever- 
green tree form, in summer and autumn the old ones are in 
a great measure cast off, and when winter comes, it is in 
all its glory. It has thrown off its worn-out damaged 
garments, and is again clothed in the grace and beauty of 
early youth. 

Thus, instead of the brown, dust-coloured foliage which 
the pleasure traveller sees in his autumn journey, the 
winter invalid sees leaves, sombre it is true, but fresh and 
beautiful to look at, either from near or from afar. The 
scantiness of the Olive-tree foliage in winter, also, is an 
advantage. It lets the sun filter pleasantly through, 
breaking its power without concealing it, and rendering a 
walk or a lounge in " the Olive-groves/'' even in the 
hot midday sun, most enjoyable. Many and many an 
afternoon have I spent at Mentone, in December and 
January, sitting with a book under the shade of an old 
Olive-tree. 

The predominance of these Olive-growers gives a very 
peculiar character to the Mentonian amphitheatre and to 
the Hiviera in general — a Scriptural character, if I may so 



'22 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

term it. The Olive-tree, which is a native of Asia Minor, 
or of Palestine, is the tree of the Holy Land, and is con- 
stantly mentioned in Scripture. Thus its presence, as the 
principal feature of the surrounding vegetation, imparts an 
Eastern charm to the place, taking the mind to the Mount 
of Olives, to Jerusalem, and to the sacred scenes of Holy 
Writ. We feel that it was in such a land that the events 
we have read of from our childhood upwards with reverence 
and interest, took place. We feel that we are nearer to 
these scenes than in our own northern island, and we really 
understand what it is "to sit under the Fig-tree/'' and to 
walk "in the Olive-grove." 

The branches of the Olive-tree are not numerous. They 
spring from the trunk, near the ground ; or rather, the 
trunk generally divides into two or three branches. The 
latter extend, at an acute angle, a long distance from the 
tree. Their foliage being terminal, and the wood non- 
elastic, they are not adapted to bear a heavy burden, for it 
acts as a weight at the extremity of a long lever. Thus, 
when snow fell thickly in the rigorous winter of 1864-5, 
without melting — an unheard of event — large olive branches 
broke off by hundreds, and great loss was thereby entailed 
on the country. 

In northern regions the Pines, the Firs, indeed Conifers 
in general, have their branches arranged in successive 
stages, or whorls, which extend only a short distance from 
the trunk of the tree. These branches, also, either droop 
downwards by natural conformation, so as to throw off the 
snow which falls on them, or bend downwards, so as to 
shake it off. The resin which fills the wood of the tree 
gives the necessary elasticity, and enables it thus to bend 
and throw off the sndw, when the poor Olive-tree resists the 
unnatural load and breaks. 

The Olive-tree flowers in April, and bears every year. 
But a year of abundance is generally followed by one, or 
even two, of comparative sterility. It has to be well 
manured every second or third year, in order to secure its 
fruitfulness. For this purpose the favourite manure is old 
woollen and linen rags, which are imported from Italy in 
boat-loads ; and such rags ! I verily believe that even our 



CLIMATE AND VEGETATION. 23 

paper manufacturers would scorn them. A trench is dug 
round the trunk of the tree, at some little distance — about 
two feet deep, and three feet wide. In this trench the 
rags are placed ; they are then soaked with liquid manure, 
and covered up with the earth — a process which no doubt 
destroys a vast amount of life. Although done by mere 
routine, this system of "arboriculture" is chemically judi- 
cious. Wool contains nitrogen like all other animal sub- 
stances, so that woollen rags must be and are valuable as 
manure. 

The olive-berry ripens in the autumn; it becomes black, 
and begins to fall off the tree in December and January. 
Some of the trees are at once cleared by beating the 
branches with long* canes. In that case the oil is not 
so abundant, but is of better quality. In other cases the 
berries are left on the trees for two or three months longer; 
until indeed they nearly all fall off. The oil made from 
these berries is more abundant, but not so good. The 
olives are smaller than those which we eat pickled ; the 
latter belong to another species of the Olive-tree, which is 
principally cultivated in Spain. 

Picking the olive berries from the ground underneath 
the trees is quite an occupation with old or infirm women, 
and with young girls. They earn about twenty sous (lOrl.) 
a day, and their labour contrasts strikingly with that 
of the strong ruddy orange and lemon girls. Many, no 
doubt, commence as the latter, strong in youth and health, 
to end by olive-picking once the heyday of life is over. 
The poor olive-pickers, clad only in thin cotton dresses, 
are apt to become rheumatic, from crouching so long over 
the ground, at times damp from the winter rains. Such, 
too often, is the contrast between youth and age in the 
working classes in all countries. 

The olives, once gathered, are taken to the olive-mills, 
where they are crushed, and the oil is extracted. These 
mills are picturesque buildings, situated in the ravines in 
order to command water. In some water is used alone, in 
others combined with horse-power. The olives are crushed 
by stone rollers ; the pulp is put in stout cylindrical baskets, 
saturated with hot water, and subjected to great pressure. 



•14: THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE, 

The water thus squeezed out carries the oil with it to vats, 
where it floats on the top and is skimmed off. This water, 
when it has thus done its duty, is of a dark brown colour, 
and is constantly seen coming* down the ravines, colouring 1 
the water-courses. No steam-power mills are as yet 
known. 

The olive oil is often stored in large elegantly-shaped 
jars, quite large enough to contain a man hidden. On 
looking into a warehouse and seeing these large jars ranged 
in rows along the wall I am always reminded of the Eastern 
tale of u Hadji Baba and the Forty Thieves." These were 
evidently the identical jars in which the thieves concealed 
themselves during the night, and were exterminated so 
cunningly by Morgiana. 

The hard roots and wood of the Olive-tree constitute the 
only fuel used at Mentone, the cooking being principally 
carried on by means of charcoal, as in France. The native 
population, however, seldom make fires, except for culinary 
purposes. They trust entirely to warm woollen garments 
even on the few really chilly days, when the summits of the 
surrounding heights are white with snow, and glisten in 
the sun like the snow-capped mountains of Switzerland or 
the Tyrol. 

Even strangers from the north, accustomed to large coal 
fires or to stove-warmed rooms for a great part of the year, 
seldom think of lighting a fire in a south sun-exposed room 
until evening, and then often more for companionship than 
from absolute necessity. On the exceptional cloudy and 
cold days, however, the " baskets" of olive-roots and 
branches disappear rapidly. They do their duty, too, and 
warm us ; whereas in our own climate such fires would be 
of no avail, a mere delusion. 

Thus, in descending from the north, we have at last 
reached a region sufficiently sheltered and sufficiently near 
to the sun for its rays to produce warmth enough to sup- 
port human life with no other artificial assistance than that 
of clothes. We no longer require the dense forests of more 
northern and more fertile regions. We are no longer 
dependent on the vast coal-fields which the earth contains 
within its bosom, the remains of the active vegetation of 



CLIMATE AND VEGETATION. 25 

former periods of the world's history, the fossilized sun- 
beams, as it were, of ages far, far distant. 

Another evidence of the exceptional warmth of the 
winter climate is the presence of large Euphorbia bashes 
and of large Carouba-trees. Some species of the Euphorbia, 
of which there are many, become shrubs in this region, 
with large ligneous stems. In many of the more protected 
regions they grow as large as Rhododendron bushes. At 
Nice I only found them as luxuriant in one spot, the south- 
east side of the castle' hill. In Italy the latitude of Southern 
Sicily must be reached to find them equally flourishing. 
They are singular plants, and grow in the most arid spots, 
on heaps of stones on the sea- shore, in the crevices of rocks, 
vet with a vigour and luxuriance which is perfectly surpris- 
ing. Their growth begins with the autumn rains, when they 
throw out a mass of light green terminal leaves. They then 
produce numerous small yellowish-green flowers throughout 
the winter, early or late, according to species. The secret 
of the luxuriant verdure, under a burning sun, in the most 
arid spots, of such a mass of delicate foliage, is the existence 
of a kind of caoutchu in their white acrid juices. This gum 
prevents the evaporation that would take place from the 
leaves, and which would soon dry up the foliage of a plant 
growing under such circumstances, without some peculiar 
protection. The white milky sap of the Euphorbia is 
poisonous to man. I recollect reading about cases of 
poisoning at Malta, attributed to drinking the milk of 
goats that had fed upon it. 

The elegant white silver-leaved Cineraria maritima is 
found abundantly in the same localities. It grows from 
crevices in sheltered rocks,' generally in the immediate 
vicinity of the sea, and often attains the size of a large bush. 
This pretty shrub has been introduced into our conservatories 
and into our summer gardens as an edging plant for the 
sake of its foliage, since the taste for foliage plants has 
become so general, and it is pleasant to find it in its native 
clime. 

The Carouba, or locust-tree, is really one of the glories 
of this and of other barren but warm regions in the south 
of Europe. It is a beautiful evergreen tree, vigorous, fresh, 



26 THE RIVIERA AND. MENTONE. 

and graceful, with an abundant light-green foliage. It 
grows in the most stony, arid, and burnt-up places, on rocks 
and on mountain sides where there is scarcely a particle of 
soil, and where its very existence is a marvel, a problem, a 
source of positive surprise and exultation to the beholder. 
Indeed, the Carouba may be considered an emblem of ever- 
green vegetation, and a perfect botanical demonstration. 
Such a tree can only live very partially from its roots, for 
they often only bind it to the rock on which it grows by 
creeping into crevices and laying hold of every inequality 
of ground. It must live in a great measure by its leaves, 
as most evergreens do, to a very considerable extent. The 
Carouba-tree bears beans in pods, very useful for the feeding 
of cattle. Each tree is said to produce, one year with another, 
twenty francs' worth of fruit. These beans have been intro- 
duced of late into England for this purpose. In the almost 
rainless region on the south-east coast of Spain, between 
Valencia and Malaga, the Carouba-tree is one of the principal 
features of the scanty vegetation. In many sun-burnt, 
scorched districts, this tree, with the Olive and the Opuntia 
or prickly pear, are all but the only products of the soil. 
The similarity of vegetation indicates similarity of climate : 
dryness, summer heat, and winter mildness. 

The existence of the Carouba explains why vegetation is 
principally evergreen in arid rocky spots, where there is 
little or no soil, and where that little is in a great measure 
formed by the pulverization of rocks, or contains but slight 
nutritive elements, as sand for instance. The scanty or 
poor soil will not feed plants that only bear leaves for a 
lew months in the year, wherewith to extract nourishment 
from the air, so nature supplies their place by evergreens, 
which have all the year round millions of lungs, in the 
shape of leaves, pumping nourishment, in the form of 
carbon, from the air. In northern climates, in high lati- 
tudes, in arid sandy soils, it is the evergreen Conifers or 
Fir tribe, the Heaths and the Hollies, that thus apply to 
the air for the nourishment refused to them by the soil. 
In southern latitudes, such as Mentone, it is the Orange, 
the Lemon, the Olive, and higher up, in cold mountain 
regions, Conifers again, as in the north, that perform the 



CLIMATE AND VEGETATION. 27 

same part. Thus is explained the fact of the vegetation of 
the Mentonian amphitheatre, a mere rocky mountain-side, 
being nearly all of an evergreen character. No other kind 
of vegetation could live and thrive there. The i'ew deci- 
duous trees, such as Oaks, Planes, and Willows, that are 
found, are principally met with along the margin of the 
torrents as they approach the sea, where alluvial soil has 
been deposited into which moisture percolates from the 
higher mountain regions. 

Along with the Carouba may be mentioned Pistacia 
Lentiscus and Terebinthinus Chio as peculiarly indicative 
of a dry, sunshiny, southern climate, and of a rocky, arid 
region. P. Lentiscus is an evergreen shrub, which grows 
freely in the same regions as the Carouba, flowering during 
the winter, and is very abundant between Nice and Venti- 
miglia ; indeed, all along the Riviera. I found it even 
more common in Corsica, where it contributes to form the 
maquis or brushwood, as also in Sardinia, and in Africa on 
the ramifications of Mount Atlas. It forms, I believe, one 
of the chief botanical features of Palestine and Syria. 

Terebinthinus Chio is frequently met with on the most 
sheltered, sunniest, warmest, and most arid mountain sides. 
It is a ligneous shrub or small tree, and is remarkable as 
being the last tree or shrub met with in the Desert of 
Sahara, on descending from the south slopes of the Atlas. 

Above the Olive-tree elevation, that is, above 2000 feet 
or thereabouts, Conifers only are met with naturally, al- 
though fruit-trees, Apples, Pears, Cherries, and Vines are 
cultivated; as for instance around Sl a . Agnes, a mountain 
village. The Conifers occupy the lower central hills when 
the soil is sandy or gravelly from the shore level, and climb 
up their sides. Where not too precipitous, they also 
occupy the sides of the highest or back limestone mountain 
range. Behind the' Mentone amphitheatre the Conifers 
only occupy northern slopes until we reach the Col de 
Tenda. From the shore level the higher trees appear mere 
shrubs, owing to the great elevation, but once they are 
reached, they prove to be respectably-sized trees. Still 
these forests certainly contain no timber " fit for building 
men-of-war/ 7 as a member of the House of Commons 



28 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

stated during 1 the debate on the cession of Mentone and 
Roccabruna to France. They contribute but little to the 
wealth of the- country. 

The Conifers which cover the sandy hills, and climb up 
the limestone mountains, are principally the Pinus ma- 
ritime with the Juniper and the Pinus Halepensis or 
Aleppo Pine, the commonest on the coast and islands of the 
Mediterranean. They do not attain any very great height, 
but are healthy and nourishing. The Maritime Pine is the 
most abundant and hardy pine on the north shores of 
the Mediterranean, and thrives on calcareous formations 
nearly as well as on schistic and sandy soils. Although 
soft-wooded, and not very valuable as timber, it is still ex- 
tensively used for building and other purposes, for want of 
better woods. In spring-time the Pine forests often suffer 
from the attacks of the caterpillar of the Bombyx proces- 
sionis moth. These caterpillars come to life in large 
woolly nests suspended in the trees like bags. When fully 
developed they leave the nest, previous to passing into the 
chrysalis stage, and form lengthened processions, which 
are often met with in the forest paths, and are very 
curious. The caterpillars march one after the other in 
single file, climbing over everything. They should not be 
handled, as irritation of the skin follows. 

In one spot, in the grounds of the Madonna Villa, in the 
western bay, are some very fine specimens of the Pinus 
Pinea, the stone or umbrella Pine, the classical Pine of 
Italy. One, more especially, a very beautiful tree, throws 
up a large stem surmounted by an immense umbrella- 
like mass of brilliant deep-green foliage. There is some- 
thing peculiarly Italian in the appearance of this noble 
tree, with its canopy of rich green leaves extending table- 
like. In Italy it is so often a prominent feature in the 
landscape, that it becomes associated in the traveller's 
mind with the monuments and ruins indelibly stamped on 
his recollection. Indeed, when sitting under the shade of 
these trees, the deep blue sea at our feet, the clear sky 
above, and the sharp clear outline of the adjoining moun- 
tains around, it is impossible not to feel that we really are 
in Italy— -notwithstanding diph matic annexations. Iso- 



CLIMATE AND VEGETATION. 29 

lated specimens only of this Pine are seen at Mentone. At 
Cannes, at the foot of the Esterel mountain, there is quite 
a forest of them. I presume a sandy soil is all but essential 
to their well-being 1 , as it is for most Conifers. The Pinus 
maritima thriving as stated on calcareous soils, succeeds 
perfectly at Mentone and covers the Cap Martin, a lime- 
stone rock on the sea level, as well as the flanks of the 
higher oolitic mountains. 

The Cork tree (Quercus Suber) is occasionally met with 
on the Riviera, but is not abundant as on the sandy 
schistic mountains of the Esterel, where it grows very 
freely, and is cultivated for profit. The acorns are given 
to pigs, the bark is used for tanning, and the cork is 
exported. 

The rarity of deciduous trees gives a peculiarly smiling, 
cheerful, summer aspect to the entire district, with its 
hills, ridges, and valleys, even in mid-winter. In no part 
of Italy or Spain that I have visited have I observed the 
universal winter verdure here witnessed. Even the far- 
famed bay of Naples, as seen from the sea on entering, 
offers to the traveller nearly as winterly an aspect in 
December as England or France. The high ground of 
Ischia, and of the continent, presents numerous naked Fig- 
trees and Vines, the aspect of which is very different to 
that of the green trees that cover the Mentonian amphi- 
theatre. We meet with winter verdure in our own forests 
of Scotch or Spruce Firs, but then the winter sky is gene- 
rally sombre, filled with masses of lead-coloured clouds, and 
the sun is obscured. At Mentone, on the contrary, the 
sun mostly shines, and generally throws a greater glow on 
the landscape in January than it does on our evergreen 
forests in July. The verdure at first appears rather sombre, 
as it is principally formed by the Olive woods, the Orange 
and Lemon-trees generally hiding in the valleys, but the 
eye gradually gets accustomed to the hue. In the eastern 
bay, however, as we have seen, there are many groves of 
light-green Lemon-trees, occupying the open mountain 
side for the first 1200 feet in altitude. 

The deciduous trees are principally Planes, Willows, and 
Fig-trees. The Willows line the margin of some of the 



30 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

larger torrents as they approach the sea. The Planes 
are planted in avenues, for the sake of the dense and 
grateful shade they give in summer. One avenue is the 
main road from Nice, and is continued into the town ; the 
other is along the banks of the torrent which descends 
from the mountain by the side of the Turin road, in the 
valley " clu Carei." This latter is the principal summer 
promenade of the inhabitants. There are a few deciduous 
Oaks and Chestnuts scattered about the hills and the 
valleys. 

The oriental Plane has been cultivated from time im- 
memorial in Asia Minor and in Greece, and from the time 
of the Romans in Italy, but for its shade only, the wood 
not being valuable. In former days it was treated with 
great reverence and respect. No tree in these climates can 
be compared to it for beauty and density of foliage in 
summer. In the south of Europe, and in the East, it is 
hardy and vigorous, attaining very great size, and flourish- 
ing in the midst of towns. This latter power it owes in 
part to the habit of shedding yearly a portion of its bark ; 
it thus, as it were, gets rid of its soiled outer garments, 
contaminated by the town atmosphere. The resistance of 
the Plane tree to city influences is well exemplified at 
Toulon. The dense and healthy grove that casts so im- 
penetrable a shade on the "Place" in the very centre of 
the town, is composed entirely of Planes. Owing to this 
tree bearing" the pruning knife as well as an English holly, 
in towns the top branches are generally clipped back ruth- 
lessly when spring arrives, so that they may form, by their 
new shoots, a regular canopy of verdure. Many of my 
readers have no doubt been awakened at early dawn by the 
chorus of innumerable birds that frequent the verdant 
grove of the market-place at Toulon. A similar chorus 
may be heard each evening in the trees growing in the 
market-place near the eastern bay at Mentone in the 
autumn and early part of the winter; indeed, until the 
leaves have all fallen. 

These trees do not lose their leaves until the nights 
become cold, so that they are often preserved until the end 
of December. The ball-like capsules which contain the 



CLIMATE AND VEGETATION. 31 

seeds remain hanging 1 from the terminal branches all 
winter. They are larger than in the American Plane tree, 
which we cultivate with success in England, and which, 
like the oriental, bears well the atmosphere of towns, as 
may be seen in Berkeley Square. The pruning takes place 
early in March ; and the new flowers and leaves appear in 
April, the former preceding the latter. The oriental Plane 
tree, although quite at home, does not appear, however, to 
reach its full size in the south of France and Italy. There 
is a Plane in the Gulf of Lepanto in Greece, the trunk of 
which is forty-six feet in circumference ; and one on the 
Bosphorus, the trunk of which is one hundred and forty- 
one feet in circumference at the base. De Candolle thinks 
it must be two thousand years old, and that it is one of the 
largest trees in the world. 

Fig-trees thrive, as everywhere else in Italy. Fortu- 
nately, however, for the lovers of the picturesque, they are 
not very numerous at Mentone. They lose their leaves 
early, by the end of November, and do not regain them 
until April, and their clumsy, graceless, weird-like branches, 
are anything but ornamental during the winter. The fruit 

JO o 

is of first-rate quality. 

Owing to the absence of frost in all but very exposed 
situations, many of our English garden flowers, which are 
cut down by the first frosty night, continue to flourish 
and bloom all the winter through. This is the case, for 
instance, with the Geranium, the Heliotrope, the Verbena, 
the Nasturtium, the Salvia, and some kinds of Roses, 
including the China Tea-rose, which continue to flower 
throughout the winter in sheltered gardens. The Nastur- 
tium, an annual with us, becomes a perennial ligneous shrub, 
as in Peru, its native country. So does the Cobsea scandens, 
which has a ligneous stem, and flowers continuously in 
winter. There are also many flowers peculiar to much 
more southern climates, which bloom throughout the winter. 
But as I purpose devoting a special chapter to cultivated 
flowers and horticulture, 1 shall now confine myself to wild 
nature. 

Wild, sweet- smelling Violets appear about the middle of 
December in the warmest spots. The Narcissus nivens, 



32 THE RIVIEKA AND MENTONE. 

and other flowers of the same genus are found equally early. 
By the end of January violets have become a weed, flowering 
from the crevices of every wall, along every path, and in 
every torrent-bed that the sun reaches. The delicate Lyco- 
podium of our hot-houses and conservatories replaces or 
accompanies the mosses of the north, growing freely in all 
damp places throughout the winter. Wild Anemones of 
different species, some of which are very beautiful, begin to 
blossom in December or January. They are rapidly suc- 
ceeded by Daffodils, Narcissus, Hyacinths, Tulips, Gladioles, 
Hepaticas, and Primroses. All these flowers are found wild, 
but only in certain regions known to the " initiated'' and to 
some of the donkey women. The white Alyssum, which we 
use for garden edgings, is very common, and flowers through- 
out the winter, as does a large species of daisy. 

Mignonette grows wild in some localities, on the terraces 
of the eastern bay for instance, but it has but very little 
odour, unlike the sweet-scented species [Reseda odorata) of 
pur gardens, which is a native of the opposite, or African 
shore of the Mediterranean. The Caper plant, a tropical 
shrub, thrives and produces fruit abundantly, a fact in itself 
evidence of a warm climate. It is of deciduous habit, and 
losing its leaves early in the autumn merely to regain them 
late in the spring, does not at all contribute to winter 
decoration. The Pepper- tree (Kin us Mulli) is cultivated 
in gardens, on account of its foliage. It remains in leaf 
during the winter, and is a handsome tree with pendulous 
leaves and pretty red berries in clusters. The Australian 
Eucalyptus, or Gum-tree, grows and thrives wherever there 
is a certain depth of soil, with its usual rapidity and 
luxuriance. 

Succulent plants thrive wherever planted, and in some 
regions have become quite wild. The large Mesembryan- 
themum is peculiarly luxuriant in its growth, and brilliant 
in its bloom. The absence of winter frost, the heat and 
dryness of summer, and the heavy rains of autumn and 
spring, seem quite to assimilate the climate to that of its 
native country, the hills and plains of the Cape of Good 
Hope. It is in full flower by the middle of April. 

The Prickly-pear (Opuntia vulgaris), the commonest of 



CLIMATE AND VEGETATION. 33 

the Cactacese in the Mediterranean, flourishes irvthis climate 
as well as in the rocky mountains of Mexico, its native 
country, as may be seen by the thriving specimens in various 
parts of the town, and in my Grimaldi garden. 

The Aloe is equally at home in the district, indeed 
all over the Mediterranean basin. But at Mentone 
it does not seem to be appreciated as at Nice, where many 
magnificent specimens are to be seen. Indeed, the Men- 
tonians do not appear to value landscape gardening, or 
gardening of any kind. Very few flowers are cultivated, 
except for preparing perfumes or in the gardens attached 
to the houses let to strangers. They seem to think it a 
loss of time to bestow labour or trouble on anything that 
is not destined to be consumed as food. This complete 
absence of the intense love of flowers and ornamental garden- 
ing which pervades all classes of society in more rigorous 
climates, characterizes Southern Europe — Italy, Fiance, 
and Spain. Where do we see the Rose, the Clematis, the 
Jasmine, climbing over the peasant's cottage as in England ? 
One reason is the difficulty of keeping plants alive and 
flourishing without watering, during the long summer 
droughts, and the difficulty and expense of finding water. 
But this does not apply to the Aloe or the Cactacese, 
wdiich delight and thrive in the driest regions. And what 
can be more grandiose than the immense Aloes seen in 
the vicinity of Nice, vegetable giants, one of which is 
often as large as a small house ! Is there not also great 
interest in watching the large flower-spike which, after 
the Aloe has lived a long life of dignified repose, shoots 
up in a few weeks, on a stem like a small Fir-tree, from 
fifteen to twenty feet high, utterly destroying, by its rapid, 
exhausting growth, the parent plant? Every winter many 
of these destructive children may be seen rising from their 
unfortunate parents, doomed to die with their offspring, 
among the Aloes at the Chateau of Nice. Aloes in flower 
may always be observed also at Monaco, where there is a 
grove of young Aloes on the terraces of the old town, but 
smaller, and of more recent growth than those of Nice. 

The Lily tribe, to which the spiny Aloe belongs — unlikely 
as it may seem to the non-botanical observer — has another 

D 



34 TITE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

representative at Mentone which covers the terraces in 
February with white clusters of lovely flowers, and which 
we can also claim, a species of garlic, the Allium Neapoli- 
tanum. To the same natural order belongs the Asparagus, 
a species of which grows wild in this district, and is nearly 
allied to the wild Asparagus found in England. 

The Oleander, or rose Laurel, as the French call it, with 
us a stove plant, grows in the open air to the size of a small 
tree. It may be seen both along the western and the 
eastern bays, along the sea-shore, and is also found truly 
wild in some of the valleys to the east. From the brilliant 
red hue of its flowers when in full blossom it has given the' 
name of Campo Rosso to a small town in the valley of 
Dolce Acqua beyond Ventimiglia. It fringes the margin of 
the rivers in Mount Atlas, thus forming a botanical link 
between Europe and Africa. The oleander flowers in the 
summer and autumn, and as neither its habit nor its ever- 
green foliage is remarkable, it does not attract much 
attention. The Tamarisk, with us a well-known sea-side 
shrub, also becomes a small tree with a good-sized trunk. 
As with us, it loses its foliage in winter, but regains it 
early in April. There is a row of these Tamarisk-trees 
skirting the beach in the western bay. They grow in the 
shingle that forms the beach, a few feet from the sea, 
thus illustrating, as in the north, their peculiar marine 
sympathies. Some plants, like some men, thrive anywhere, 
are cosmopolite, whilst others flourish only in their native 
soil, under special conditions of climate, and without them 
pine and eventually die. 

As illustrative of the cosmopolite plant may be men- 
tioned the friend of our childhood, the common Blackberry, 
which we are glad to welcome even at Mentone. In the 
warmest, wildest, and rockiest regions it grows as vigo- 
rously, as joyously, as in any quiet lane in England or Scot- 
land, only in such situations it becomes an evergreen — in 
this sense that it does not lose one set of leaves until it 
has got another. It is, in truth, a singularly hardy plant, 
with a most peculiar power of adapting itself to circum- 
stance«. All climates seem to agree equally well with it — 



CLIMATE AND VEGETATION. 35 

hot or cold, rainy or dry, maritime or inland, plain or 
mountain. 1 have never been to a spot in Europe or Africa 
where 1 have not found it, from Sutherlandshire to the 
south of Sardinia, and. to the margin of the Sahara desert. 
I must confess to a certain degree of surprise when I saw 
this favourite of our shady English lanes growing at Men- 
tone with wild and determined luxuriance, filling up the 
bed of dry torrents, climbing up trees to a height of twenty 
or thirty feet, and choking passages between lemon terraces 
on the mountain side, and that in regions where it often 
does not rain in summer for six. or eight months together, 
and under the glare of the fierce Mediterranean sun. 
Certainly it must have a mission to fulfil, and perhaps that 
mission is to supply a grateful fruit to the children of the 
very poor. The days when they go blackberrying are truly 
festive days to them, and but few are the fruits they can 
obtain in our climates. Its sight is always welcome, as 
is all that reminds the sojourner in foreign lands of his 
native country, and of the haunts and pleasures of his child- 
hood and of his early years. 

In spring a very familiar plant shows its large, velvety 
mealy leaves, in many places, on the road sides, and at 
the bottom of walls — the Verbascum. At the same time 
appears in great abundance and luxuriance, in the same 
regions, a large, elegantly-variegated white and green 
Thistle. They both are in flower early in April, as also is 
the Antirrhinum, or Snapdragon, which is found wild on 
the warm terraces. It belongs to the same natural order 
as the Verbascum, that of the Scrophulaiiacese. This is 
also the time when the elegant little grape Hyacinth, the 
star of Bethlehem, the Cistus or rock rose, the prickly 
Broom, the Cytisus, the Coronilla, and many other beautiful 
flowers are in full bloom, and transform the ravines and 
terraces into regular gardens. I must not either forget to 
mention the ground orchids, of which many different kinds 
are found — the fly Orchis, the spider Orchis, the Orchis 
lutea, the bee Orchis, the long-bracted. 

The vegetation of course varies according to the nature 
of the soil. Some of the lower hills are of sandstone, which 



36 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

impresses on the flora its peculiar character. The trees are 
Pines; the shrubs, the Arbutus, the Myrtle, the Juniper, 
prickly Broom, mountain Lavender, and Heath. At Christ- 
mas our common ling Heath is in full flower. Another 
very beautiful Heath — the Mediterranean or arborea — 
flowers in February and March. It has an erect stem, 
rising to the height of five or six feet, and its spikes of 
numerous white flowers are most lovely. 

The most remarkable of these sandstone hills is the one 
between the Cabrole and Gorbio valleys, called the St a . 
Lucia and the Arbutus ridge. The vegetation I have 
enumerated is quite that of the Corsican and Sardinian 
granitic and sandstone mountains; it is also that of the 
same formations on Mount Atlas, in Africa. Thus a couple 
of hours spent on these hills give a most graphic and true 
idea of the vegetation that covers some of the most lovely 
and romantic regions of the mountains of Corsica, Sardinia, 
and of North Africa. It is a little corner of Africa encased 
in the Mentonian amphitheatre, and this identity of 
vegetation seems to prove that the day has been when 
the Maritime Alps, the Apennines, and Mount Atlas were 
one system of mountains. 

A species of evergreen creeping Smilax, or Sarsaparilla, 
with variegated triangular leaves and groups of red berries, 
is very common. Our old friend the Ivy is constantly met 
with in the valleys and watercourses, wherever the soil 
contains lime. Ferns are very numerous throughout the 
district, and their growth is favoured by the peculiar struc- 
ture of the terraces. The walls by which these terraces are 
bounded are formed by the simple superstructure of large 
stones, and the earth gradually filtrating into their inter- 
stices, forms a cool, damp bed, admirably adapted to their 
growth. All the old terraces are clothed with the Ceterach 
fern, the Asplenium trichomanes, and the Asplenium adi- 
antum nigrum, which, with the Capillus veneris, or maiden- 
hair Fern, are the most common. The latter is a mere weed, 
and waves its beautiful fronds near every tank, every brook, 
every small irrigation canal, indeed, wherever there is either 
running or stagnant water. The Pteris aquilina, or brake 
Fern, is common, but it is a summer Fern, as with us, its 



CLIMATE AND VEGETATION. 37 

fronds only appearing in April, when the invalids are pre- 
paring to migrate northwards. The Scolopendrium, the 
Polypodium vulgare, the Ruta muraria, Asplenium Petrar- 
chan, and Fontanum, the Grammitis Leptophylla, and the 
Cheilanthes odorus, are less universally distributed, although 
by no means uncommon. On the whole, I found twelve 
different species of ferns, within a few hundred feet of the 
sea, most of which are also met with in England. In the 
high mountains there are other species to be gathered. I 
was rather surprised in the summer that followed my iirst 
winter at Mentone to find the Asplenium trichomanes 
growing with equal luxuriance, not only on a wall in the 
Versailles gardens, but also on the ruins of an old chapel 
in a solitary i^let at the northern extremity of wild and 
beautiful Loch Awe, in the far north, on the west coast of 
Scotland. 

For a full account of the vegetation of the Genoese 
Riviera I would refer to M. Ardoino's " Flore des Alpes 
Maritimes," and to Mr. Traherne Moggridge's very beauti- 
ful book, " Contributions to the Flora of Mentone and to a 
winter Flora of the Riviera from Marseilles to Genoa." Mr. 
T. Moggridge has also published a most interesting book 
on " Harvesting Ants and Trap-door Spiders. Notes and 
Observations on their Habits and Dwellings." It is a model 
of close observation, and a charming illustration of the way 
in which the leisure of invalidism may be made a source of 
delight and joy by merely turning to nature. 

Nearly all the cultivated vegetation of the Mentone 
amphitheatre — Lemon, Olive, and Orange-trees — except 
what is found on the narrow seaboard, grows on terraces, 
built, or excavated on the side of the mountain. These terraces 
have been produced by the labour of many ages. The moun- 
tains and hills rise too rapidly from the sea level for even 
Olive-trees to grow without this preliminary step being 
adopted to support and form the soil. A terrace is a ledge 
cut in the hill side. The stone taken out of the hill forms 
the wall, the earth from the crevices, the broken stones, and 
a little earth brought from other regions, form the soil. 
These terraces are expensive to make, as much so, I have 
been told, as houses ; whereas the product is prospective 



38 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

only. The man who builds them sinks his capital more for 
his children's benefit than for his own. If he plants Lemon 
or Orange-trees he must also dig a large tank, and be able 
to get water to fill the tank, in order to irrigate them in 
the rainless summer. If he plants Olive-trees they grow 
so slowly that in twenty years the produce is still insig- 
nificant. The stones, even, have to crumble into soil, under 
the influence of moisture, wind, and weather, and manure 
has to be added, before the terrace can produce the green 
crops which are generally planted on those occupied by 
young trees. 

And yet the mountain sides are scarred with these ter- 
races, which rise in successive tiers, and are the foundation 
of the agricultural riches of the country. They are the 
evidence, in stone, of the thrift and industry of past gene- 
rations — a silent but eloquent monument of the domestic 
virtues of the forefathers of the present race. Many new 
terraces have been built during the last few years, owing 
to the increasing prosperity of the inhabitants. 

Many new tanks have also been constructed. Their for- 
mation is attended with a heavy expenditure, as I know to 
my cost. The walls have to be made very thick to support 
the pressure of the water inside, and the entire fabric has to be 
cemented several times, internally, with hydraulic cement, 
to prevent the escape of the water. These tanks can be 
filled at the end of winter, before the springs are divided 
between the proprietors, a proceeding which usually takes 
jnace in May. The water of a spring is as valuable as the 
land, and is owned, so many hours each week, by the 
landed proprietors. Without such a right to water land is 
all but in mountain localities like Grimaldi. This village 
and the vegetation around it, owe their exigence to a spring 
thus appropriated. In winter, by immemorial right, the 
water of the spring belongs to two olive mills worked by 
water power. 



CHAPTER II. 

GEOLOGY. 

THE CRETACEOUS OB, SECONDARY PERIOD — THE NUMMTJLITIC OR TROPI- 
CAL PERIOD — THE CONGLOMERATE AND THE GLACIAL PERIODS — 
THE BONE CAVERNS — PRE-HISTORIC MAN. 

AGRICULTURAL GEOLOGY. 

" There rolls the deep where grew the tree, 
earth, what changes thou hast seen ! 
There where the long street roars, hath been 
The stillness of the central sea. 
" The hills are shadows, and they flow 

From form to form, and nothing stands ; 
They melt like mist, the solid lands, 
Like clonds they shape themselves, and go." 

Tennyson, In Memoriam, cxxii. 

The geological features of the country are very interesting 
and much may be observed in a small compass. The high 
range of mountains which form the amphitheatre belongs 
to the lower cretaceous rocks, and is composed of very fine- 
grained limestone full of minute globular animal organisms. 
At both the eastern and western extremities of the Men- 
tone bay this formation juts out into the sea. At the 
eastern extremity, the road to Genoa is cut out of the side 
of the mountain, and ascends to a great elevation, crossing 
a deep ravine in this limestone by a bold bridge, the Pont 
St. Louis. 

A short distance on each side of this point are observed 
some of the middle and upper cretaceous strata which 
replace the upper green sand, gault, chalk, marls, and 
white chalk of England. According to my learned and 
deeply regretted friend, the late Professor H. D. Rogers, of 



40 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

Glasgow University, who was an ornament to his native 
country, the United States of America, they form the fol- 
lowing strata : — a group, consisting 1st, of blue shales, 
with intercalated thin layers of micaceous sandstone, some- 
times abounding in the so-called green sand, eminently 
characteristic of the middle cretaceous strata; 2nd, of a 
coarse, usually very thick bedded sandstone, often conglo- 
meritic, intercalated, in its upper part, with beds of shale 
like those of the group that underlies it. 

Above these upper secondaries commences the tertiary 
system by a well-developed eocene nummulitic limestone, full 
of nummulites, which in certain localities is overlaid by 
argillaceous strata and these by a remarkably coarse con- 
glomerate, both of the pleiocene age. 

These strata are observed on both sides of the Pont St. 
Louis, in the same order, eastward towards the town of 
Ventimiglia, and westward towards Roccabruna, at the 
base of the Turbia ascent. At both these points appear 
the pleiocene clays and conglomerate. Thus the lower 
hills, which occupy the ground-plan, as it were, of the 
Mentone amphitheatre, represent from east to west, dif- 
ferent strata between the lower cretaceous limestone and 
the pleiocene conglomerate. These strata are also repro- 
duced in the same order, between the St. Louis rocks and 
Ventimiglia, near which the tertiary clays and conglome- 
rate are found equally well developed. 

The age and geological position of these pleiocene strata 
are indicated by the fossils they contain. My friend, 
Mr. Moggridge, who has devoted much time and thought 
to the geology of this district of the Maritime Alps, has 
found, near Ventimiglia, many fossils in the clays which 
underlie the conglomerate, characteristic of the later 
pleiocene period. The accompanying chart, which Pro- 
fessor .Rogers kindly drew up for this work, will show at a 
glance the above details. 

The conglomerate is magnificently developed both at the 
entrance to the Mentonian amphitheatre, on the Nice road, 
near the village of Roccabruna, and seven miles further on, 
at Ventimiglia. It is, indeed, one of the most interesting 
features in the geology of the district. The deposit is 



) AND BOEDIGHERA. 



Naues! Physical Conditions and Events indicated bx the 
a several foejiations. 



p J heterogeneous mixture of rounded, far-transported fragments, some 
ived from the high Maritime Alps, betokens a period of very energetic 



s earth's crust in all this region. 



imply a period of long«repose in the sea, probably that which ensued 
ocene volcanoes of Central France had become torpid. 



•vr existence of these formations along this part of the Mediterranean 
;ates dry land, when the meiocene plain of Switzerland was all under 



;-bedded, massive, fossiiiferous limestone shows, in its uniformity of tex- 

MiDDLE ance f or g an i c remains, and its almost total freedom from water- 

(1540 ft, or clay, that it was the deposit of a very long and quiet period . Being 

Eno-ple on the cretaceous strata, as the upper eocene and meiocene are 

° dicates a resubmerging of some wide tracts of the district beneath the 

?riod of prolonged quiet, in which the sea's bed abounded in animal life. 



No Lowice of this group shows that the cretaceous sea-bottom was now dry 
he middle eocene or nummulite sea covered it. 



arenaceous group, containing no hitherto discovered organic remains, 
iat doubtful geologic age; but as it seems to overlie, with true paral- 
[et conformity, the " cretaceous shales," we cannot go far astray if we 
i "upper cretaceous." Its pebbles denote an interruption to the long 
i preceding periods, and thus it appears to foreshadow those prodigious 
Chalk MaJ of the earth's crust which attended the cessation of the Mesozoic 
e coming in of the Cainozoic with an almost wholly altered physical 



(Equi* 



|osits contain fossils, and the materials all indicate a long period of 
f Eauiva !ltary action ' wlien tne bottom of the ancient cretaceous ocean was 
(-i„ l i^ fjlely- wafted very fine clay and mica and sand, and the chemically con- 
"^and, or green granules. 



■ta being very full of minute marine animal fossils, and being, moreover, 
. .minated, were evidently formed at the bottom of a deep sea during a 
kqmva-iQjjggjj re p 0se f tne underlying earth's crust. 
W ealden t 



GEOLOGICAL CHART OF THE STRATA BETWEEN MONACO AND BORDIGHERA. 



Pleiocene Conglomebate. 



Pleiocene Clays. 




Descriptions op the Steata. 



A very coarse conglomerate, in thick, mas- 
sive beds, pebbles of all sizes, 1 in. to 2 ft. in 
diameter; at Eoccabruna and Veutimiglia. 



gg i Beds of blue and whitish clays, line in tex- 
gjg! ture, with many pleiocene fossils, all of a 
■■'"« type, near Veutimiglia. 



No Meiocene nor Upper Eocene. 



Middle Eocene, i The Bagshot, 
(1540 ft. thick in ] Headon& Osborne 
V England.) . I Strata of England. 




Uppeb Cbetaceoos. 



(Equivalent of tlle White Chalk and 
Chalk Marls of England.) 



Both meiocene and upper eocene absent. 



A blue fossiliferous, easily fractured lime- 
stone, replete in fossil nuinniulites of at least 
four species: is a rock easily dressed, and is 
in much demand as a good building stone; 
above St. Louis Bridge. 



A total blank as to strata in this part of 




A succession of thick beds of rather loosely- 

; -T- - fc??- cemented, yellowish-grey sandstones, some 

rf- Za-^-K' ' °f tnem P e bMy, and the pebbles more or less 

_?■»'- - •'" ° - ' angular, and of very miscellaneous mineral 

Sgl^pcSS?? characters. Between the St. Louis rocks and 

'--*:-^ira'J^i fentimiglia and inside the Mentone amphi- 

- - '-^-- theatre. . 




Middle Ceetacbous. 



(Equivalent of Upper Grcensand and 
Gault of England.) 



Lowek Cretaceous. 

(Equivalent of Lower Greensand and 
Wealden beds of England.) 




A group of grey and blue argillaceous and 
sandy shales, imbedding thin lamina; of mi- 
caceous sandstone, more or less replete in 
the " cretaceous greensand ;" including also 
some beds of argillaceous limestone, imbed- 
ding layers of nodules of genuine "chalk 
Jliii'f," as above. 



In England 730 feet. 



Probably between 

2H0O and 3000 ft. in 

thickness. 



A pale pinkish, s ery fine-grained limestone, 
in somebeds so full of minute globular animal 
organisms as to cause the rock to closely 
resemble a much indurated oolite, constitutes 
the framework of the district — the large 
mountain masses. 



This very heterogeneous mixture of rounded, far-transported fragments, some 
of them derived from the high Maritime Alps, betokens q period of very energetic 
action in the earth's crust in all this region. 



These beds imply a period of long\epose in the sea, probably that which ensued 
after the meiocene volcanoes of Central France had become torpid. 



The non-existence of these formations along this part of the Mediterranean 
region indicates chy laud, when the meiocene plain of Switzerland was all under 
water. 



This tllick-bedded, massive, fossil herons limestone shows, in ils unil'orinilj of tex- 
ture, abundance of organic remains, and its almost total freedom from water- 
strewn sand or clay, that it was the deposit of a very long and quiet period. Being 
unconformable on the cretaceous strata, as the upper eocene and nieioeene are 
absent, it indicates a resubmcrging of some wide tracts of the district beneath the 
sea, and a period of prolonged quiet, in which the sea's bed abounded in animal life. 



This very arenaceous group, containing no hitherto discovered organic remains, 
is of somewhat doubtful geologic age; but as it seems lo overlie, with true paral- 
lelism or strict conformity, the " cretaceous shales," we cannot go far astray if we 
regard it as "upper cretaceous." Its pebbles denote an interruption to the long 
repose of the preceding periods, and thus it appears to foreshadow those prodigious 
disturbances of the earth's crust which attended the cessation of the Mesozoic 
ages, and the coming in of the Cainozoic with an almost wholly altered physical 
geography. 



These deposits contain fossils, and the materials all indicate a long period of 

quiet sedimentary action, when the bottom of the ancient cretaceous , an was 

receiving widely-wafted very fine clay and mica and sand, and the chemically con- 
creted greensand, or green granules. 



These strata being very full of minute marine animal fossils, and being,? ^ 
very little laminated, were evidently formed at I he bottom of a deep sea during 
period of prolonged repose of the underlying earth's crust. 



GEOLOGY — CRETACEOUS PERIOD. 41 

composed of large stones, rounded by water and friction, 
imbedded in calcareous gravel, constituting what has been 
termed pudding-stone, and is very extensive ; it indicates a 
period of great convulsion, a period when the waters of the 
Mediterranean were probably thrown with terrific violence 
on the mountain masses which form the Maritime Alps in 
the far off background. Porphyry, and granite stones of 
large volume, are common in this conglomerate, and these 
formations are only met with at a considerable distance 
from the Mediterranean coast. 

The village of Roccabruna is built on the conglomerate, 
which ascends much higher on the sides of the mountain 
along the Nice road. Tradition says, that Roccabruna was 
in former days some two hundred feet higher up the moun- 
tain, but that a gigantic land-slip occurred, and that the 
bed of boulders on which it was built descended bodily to 
its present position. I much doubt, however, the veracity 
of this the popular view as to the original habitat of the 
"brown rock" village. 

The various geological formations observed in the limited 
Mentonian amphitheatre bring home to us, " in words of 
stone/ 5 some of the most interesting phases through which, 
the world has passed during recent geological periods. The 
word recent, however, must be understood to apply to 
periods separated from us by countless ages, and only 
recent as compared with the unfathomable periods of time 
during which the primary and secondary strata were formed. 

The lower cretaceous limestone rocks, which form the 
basis of the Mentonian amphitheatre, and the strata 
therein found that correspond to our chalk or upper cre- 
taceous era, represent the highest or most recent forma- 
tions of the secondary period of geology. The nummulitic 
limestone which crowns the St. Louis rocks, and which is 
being quarried for building purposes where the first de- 
scending eastern bend occurs, belongs to the eocene or 
tertiary formation. 

The nummulitic formation is not the earliest of the 
eocene period, but occupies a middle position. At Mentone 
the lower eocene formation is not represented, it is a blank ; 
nor are the upper strata of the eocene system, nor any of 



42 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

the miocene. They are all wanting up to the pleiocene 
clays which underlie the conglomerate. At least such is 
Professor Rogers' view of the geology of this district, the 
result of careful analysis and of many excursions of inquiry 
in which I had the pleasure of his refined and intellectual 
companionship, and the opinion of so able a geologist must 
have great weight. He considers, as we have seen, the 
shales and sandstones, which lie east and west of the 
St. Louis limestone, to be members of the upper cretaceous 
family, and not tertiaries, as is generally supposed. 




NUMMULITES. 

1, 2, Numnmlites lasvigafca; 3, Section of do., showing its cells. 

There is a feature of great interest connected with the 
nummulitic limestone. It belongs, most indubitably, to 
the middle eocene, it was unquestionably formed under salt 
water — for the nummulites or coin-like shells which it 
contains are the shells of salt water testaceaa — and yet this 
formation is found highly developed on the highest and 
most central portions of the Alps, the Carpathians, the 
Pyrenees, and the Himalayas. This fact alone would 
suffice to prove that these stupendous mountain chains are 
of comparatively recent formation. They could not have 
existed at the time the nummulitic limestone was forming 
under the sea, at a time when England was already peopled 
by various quadrupeds, and must have been raised above the 
sea level subsequently to that period, by some mighty con- 
vulsion of nature. 

During the period of the earth's history when the 
nummulitic limestone was formed, and during the sub- 
sequent or miocene period, the climate of Europe was warm 



GEOLOGY NUMMULITIC PERIOD. 43 

or subtropical. The vegetation was all but that of the 
tropics of the present clay, as testified by the beds of lignite 
or wood coal belonging to this period, which are found in 
these strata, The animals of the tertiary period were the 
large and curious precursors of the present races. An idea 
of these animals may be gained by the specimens that have 
been so curiously reproduced in the gardens of the Crystal 
Palace. They were remarkable for their size and develop- 
ment, which indicated favourable conditions of material 
life, abundance of food, and a genial climate. 

The sea and rivers were also peopled by exuberant and 
grandiose life, indicative of tropical warmth — large Sharks, 
and Rays, Turtles, Dolphins, and such like. The num- 
mulites, or coin-like shells, found in the St. Louis quarry, 
were living in boundless profusion in the warm seas. So 
abundant were they in the oceans of those days that 
thousands of miles of nummulitic limestone several hundred 
feet in depth, all but entirely composed of their remains_, are 
found in some regions of the Old World. 

Then, after the pleiocene period a dark cloud came over 
the earth. From some unknown cause its temperature 
lowered, and the glacial period set in. Part of Europe and 
Asia subsided under the sea as the climate became cold. 
Glaciers established themselves on the mountains of a con- 
siderable portion of what remained of the Europe of to-day, 
and on other regions now submerged, down to the 36th 
parallel of latitude (Agassiz). The tropical vegetation gave 
way to a northern flora. The tropical animals died out or 
emigrated to more southern regions, and were superseded 
by new forms of life more adapted to a boreal climate. 

The material world went on as before, under the influence 
of the same laws. The rain, the frost, the air disintegrated 
the rocks, the detritus ot which was carried by rivulets and 
rivers to the sea. These fragments, large and small, were 
rounded and polished both by the action of the waters that 
brought them from the heights, and by the action of 
the seas to which they were carried ; as is the case with the 
shingle on modern shores. Huge portions of the glaciers, 
that reached the sea in many places, were broken off during 
the short summer. Covered with rocks, stones, and sand, 



44 THE MVIEftA AND MENTONE. 

which they brought from the mountains, in the ravines of 
which they were formed, they sailed out to sea. Tens of 
thousands of icebergs now sail every summer in the same 
way, into the Atlantic from the polar regions. On melting, 
their cargo of gravel — for of such is gravel — of boulders, 
and of large rocks, is now deposited, as foimerly, at the 
bottom of the Ocean. 

After an incalculable period of time a change again came 
over our globe. The warmth of the sun again reached us, 
and the submerged portions of Europe, Asia, and North 
America, again began to rise; as also, no doubt, did regions 
which for the first time appeared above the waters. This 
rise appears to have been gradual, as well as the improve- 
ment in climate which accompanied it. Thus, by slow 
degrees, the present state of the earth was attained. 

The conglomerate formation observed at Roccabruna and 
Ventimiglia extends over an immense area between the 
Esterel and San Remo, and on the south sides of the 
Maritime Alps. In some regions, also, it attains extreme 
development. Thus, it is found on the course of the Var 
and of the Vesubie, as also on a great part of the right side 
of the Roya valley. On the left side it principally forms the 
mountainous elevation which separates the Roya from the 
valley of the Nervia. Above Bordighera, at the Testa de 
Alpe, according to Dr. Niepce of Nice, it attains an eleva- 
tion of above 5000 feet. 

Dr. Niepce has recently published in the Revue dje Nice 
(1874) a series of interesting articles on the tertiary forma- 
tions, and on the conglomerates of the department of the 
Alpes Maritimes. The results at which lie has arrived 
corroborate the views of Professor Rogers, as given in his 
chart, and seem so consistent with our geological know- 
ledge, and with reason, that I think I cannot do better 
than reproduce them. 

The conglomerates, or pudding stone, were formed under 
the sea and on the shore by the crushing of rocks and the 
dashing of large masses of water against the rocky shore, 
which must have characterized the frequent and terrible 
convulsions that occurred during the later tertiary period. 

In this region, the Apennine system and the Alps system 



GEOLOGY — CONGLOMERATE PERIOD. 45 

of mountains meet, as it were, and during the earthquakes, 
volcanic eruptions, and upheavings, which succeeded each 
other at that period of the earth's history, the conflict 
between water and rock, the grinding and crushing that 
took place, must have resulted in the formation of immense 
masses of shingle, such as we now see at Brighton, Dover, 
and Dieppe. Formed thus under water, before the glacial 
period, an upheaval at the end of the pleiocene epoch raised 
the conglomerates to their present site, where they became 
cemented by calcareous infiltrations. 

Some geologists have maintained that these conglome- 
rates are deltas of local rivers existing or " defunct/' But 
this Dr. Niepce denies on convincing grounds. The Siagne, 
the Var, the Roya, the Nervia, must have come into exis- 
tence subsequently to the formation and upheaval of the 
conglomerate. Fissures were rent in the latter during sub- 
sequent earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and upheavals, and 
thus were formed the present beds of these rivers. Traces 
of violent volcanic action are found all over the country, 
such as the presence of volcanic rocks at Beaulieu, Antibes, 
Cannes, Esterel, independently of the upheavals, twistings, 
and convulsions, everywhere to be seen. 

I am pleased to find that Dr. Niepce supports, by his 
researches and experience, the opinion I expressed in former 
editions as to the presence of traces of glacial action in the 
Alpes Maritimes. Thus he states that on the sides, both of 
the Roya and of the Var, especially at Colomas in the Var 
valley, he has found well marked ice erosions and polishings 
on the conglomerate itself. This fact is one of the argu- 
ments on which he founds the opinion that the formation of 
the conglomerate, and of the rents in it which constitute the 
river beds, were antecedent to the glacial period. 

Admitting that such was the case, the beds of these 
rivers, especially that of the Roya, afford a good illustration 
of the way in which glacial action scooped out a river 
valley, and transformed a mere fissure or rent into a wide 
open estuary. 

The valley of the Roya has all the characteristics of a 
glacier-excavated valley, according to the most recent 
writers on the subject (Hooker, Lyell, Ansted). It is very 



46 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

wide and very deep. It appears much more probable that 
it was excavated by the action of a glacier, formed by 
millions of tons of ice, slowly descending to the sea, grind- 
ing its way through rocks and mountains, than by the 
wearing power of the small river that now occupies its 
centre. Glaciers must have extended not only as far as 
this coast in the Mediterranean (43°)", but much more to 
the south. I found most undoubted evidence of glacial 
action, moraines and boulder drift, in the south of Corsica, 
between Sartene and Bonifacio. 

It is worthy of notice that the upheavals of the moun- 
tains, hills, and ridges along this coast have all taken place 
by movements in a direction from south-east to north-west, 
and vice versa — that is, along a line from the volcanic 
centres of Etna, Stromboli, and Vesuvius, to the extinct 
volcanoes of Auvergne, in France. The rocky summits, 
the crests of the stony waves, all lie at right angles to this 
direction. 

Although there are no igneous rocks in the Mentone 
amphitheatre, they are found . very near, as we have said, at 
Beanlieu, Villefranche, Antibe, and in the upper part of the 
valley of the Roya, and the evidence of igneous action is 
everywhere seen. In some instances the stratification of 
the limestone has been destroyed by its influence — in many 
the limestone has been crystallized in patches, transformed 
into marble. In some regions, as at the Cap Martin, it 
has been honeycombed, fretted into holes and cavities, evi- 
dently by the action of steam. All these facts are evidences 
of the terrible convulsions to which this region of Europe 
was subjected in former periods of the earth's history, and 
especially during the tertiary era. 

Thus, in this little Mediterranean bay, do we find 
various important phases of the earth's marvellous history 
stamped in indelible characters. On the east of the 
amphitheatre are rocks, the nummulitic, which point to 
sunny skies, warm seas, and exuberant life, existing pre- 
vious even to the raising oi' the main chain of the Mari- 
time Alps, for countless ages. On the west are conglo- 
merate formations which preceded a period of polar cold, of 
gloom and barrenness, that also existed during countless 



GEOLOGY — GLACIAL PERIOD. 47 

ages. Around is the evidence of another era, the present ; 
itself destined unquestionably to ultimate change. 

The glacial period which immediately preceded our era 
appears to have been general, that is, to have extended to 
both hemispheres, the tropics alone escaping its disastrous 
influence. The gravels and glacier-drifted boulders and 
rocks which testify to its existence, are found in Australia 
and South America, as well. as in Asia, Europe, and North 
America. Most of the geologists who have studied the 
glacial period during the last few years have simply re- 
cognised and described it, without attempting to explain 
its causes. Various attempts, however, have been made to 
unravel this geological mystery. Thus, M. Babinet, of the 
French Institute, has advanced an astronomical explanation 
which finds favour with many thinkers. 

Fixed stars, it is well known, are suns, comparable in 
all respects to the sun which forms the centre of our 
planetary system. Now some stars have proved "variable" 
within our astronomical range of time; that is, they have 
shone with variable brilliancy at intervals of longer and 
shorter duration, or they have even disappeared totally for 
a time. Some well-known stars in ancient catalogues have 
disappeared entirely, and have never returned; they are 
lost stars. Lastly, some stars have appeared and shone 
with great brilliancy for a short time, and have then dis- 
appeared for ever. Such was the Pilgrim star, which 
appeared in 1572, shone as brilliantly as the planet Venus, 
and after a year disappeared. It is supposed that the 
variable stars are diminished in splendour or even obscured 
at times by the contact of matter existing in space, to 
which the name of " cosmic clouds" has been given, and 
which is neither comet nor planet. If our sun is a variable 
star, exposed to the periodical contact of such cosmic 
clouds, which would intercept light and heat, the glacial 
period is explained, and its return at some time or other 
becomes possible, if not probable. 

It has been suggested by Colonel James, of the Ordnance 
Survey, that the changes of the earth's climate in geo- 
logical periods may be due to changes in the inclination of 
the earth's axis, brought about by alterations in the crust 



48 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

of the earth gradually affecting- the centre of gravity. 
Colonel Dray son, in a memoir read before the Astronomical 
Society in 1870, attributes the glacial period and other 
changes of climate on the earth's surface geologically evi- 
denced to the precession of the equinoxes. He states, as a 
result of his researches, that the pole of the earth traces a 
curve in the heavens which is a circle round a point 6 
degrees from the pole of the ecliptic, and that this same 
curve gives an obliquity of upwards of 35 degrees for the 
date ] 3,000 B.C. Thus the date of the last glacial period 
would be fixed, and it must have extended over the whole 
of the Northern hemisphere, down to the 54th degree of 
latitude. According to tnis view, the pole of the heavens 
traces a circle in the heavens in 31,000 years, the centre of 
this circle being a point 6 degrees from the pole of the 
ecliptic. 

Professor Rogers thinks that at the end of the pleiocene 
period the land which separates the head-water of the 
Baltic from the Arctic Ocean was probably below the level 
of the Baltic. Even now it is only a few hundred feet 
high, and within historic periods there has been a con- 
tinuous, although slight, upheaval. If such was the case, 
the passage of a cold arctic current, with icebergs, down 
the Baltic, may have modified the climate of Europe, so as 
to account for the glacial period, which the Professor con- 
siders to have been much exaggerated by recent writers. 
Similar views have been supported with great talent in a 
recent work, " Erost and Fire," by Mr. John Campbell. 

These explanations are merely theoretical, and may or 
may not be correct. The fact remains, that the earth has 
undergone, within the limit of geological investigations, 
various important changes of climate, that have reacted on 
life, such as are exemplified in the Mentonian amphitheatre, 
and that these changes have not been limited to the warm 
tertiary and cold glacial periods. Mr. Page, in his most 
interesting work on "The Past and Present Life of the 
Globe/ - ' p. 188, states his belief that similar warm and 
cold cycles must have existed during the earlier periods of 
the earth's existence. If he is right, he has discovered the 
existence of a law which must have repeatedly changed the 



GEOLOGY — THE BONE CAVERNS. 49 

earth and its inhabitants, and which it may be presumed 
is destined again to change it, in the ordinary course of 
nature. 

The water which falls on the Mentone mountains, in 
finding its way to the sea, has excavated deep ravines, 
which expose the structure of the tertiary rocks. It has 
thus formed numerous narrow valleys, by which access is 
obtained to the higher mountains, and to three or four 
small picturesque villages therein built. These ravines 
constitute, as we shall see, an important feature in the 
sanitary history of Mentone. Owing to the backbone of 
the district, as it were, being limestone, the water is every- 
where very hard, and the springs considered the purest are 
loaded with lime. Treated with oxalic acid, the water 
gives a most abundant precipitate, even when taken from 
springs in the sandstone rocks. I have had to meet this 
difficulty by giving distilled water, or rain water, or mild 
mineral waters, to invalids. In some instances the hardness 
of the water is evidently beneficial, as, for instance, in 
cases of chronic diarrhoea. 

In the unstratified limestone rocks at the Pont St. Louis 
are many crevices and caverns, similar to those which so 
frequently occur in the harder limestone rocks in general. 
These fissures and caverns owe their existence to various 
causes. Formed under water, and during their upheaval 
and drying subjected to pressure and heat, the limestone 
rocks have a tendency to split and to contract, and thus to 
form crevices and cavities. The presence of these fissures 
and caverns is often the evident result of the dissolving 
action of water on the soluble limestone rock, and of the 
infiltrations of subterranean springs or of rivers in days 
gone by. The formation of these caverns on a large scale is 
illustrated in the limestone strata of Derbyshire, of Carin- 
thia, and of Kentucky. The Mammoth Cave of Kentucky, 
the caverns of Adelsberg, in Carinthia, and the Devil's 
Cave, in Derbyshire, are cited amongst the wonders of the 
world. 

On the shore, at the eastern extremity of the inner bay, 
in the " red rocks, " as they are called, are several good- 
sized caves, which contain in great abundance organic 



50 THE RIVIERA AND MENTOXE. 

remains — the bones of large and small mammifers — im- 
bedded in hard sand and calcareous matter. The organic 
remains thus imbedded cover the floor to a depth of many 
feet, and are mixed with the flint weapons and utensils and 
knives, which have excited so much attention during the 
last few years ; testifying as they do to the existence of 
races of men in far back pre-historic times. 

The existence of flint weapons among the bones found in 
the Mentone caverns was first noticed, I believe, in 1858 
by M. Forel, a Swiss geologist. He published, in 1860, a 
memoir,* in which he gives the result of his researches. 
M. Forel's investigations were principally made in the third 
and fourth caves, counting from Mentone. He found a 
great quantity of broken bones, shells, remains of Crustacea?, 
and pieces of charcoal. Along with these he discovered 
many fragments and splinters of flint, and also many arrow 
and lance heads, spear points, and triangular pieces of flint, 
evidently intended for knives. The bones belonged to stags, 
sheep, boars, horses, wolves, dogs, cats, rabbits, a large 
carnivorous animal, and one to the Bos primigenius, a large 
bull which belongs to the glacial period. 

During the winter of 186£ Mr. Moggridge continued 
these researches, with great care, in the second cavern, and 
among great masses of bones also found the flint instru- 
ments above enumerated, some of them in a perfect state. 
Pieces of charcoal were likewise found mixed with them. 

The existence of these bone caves at Mentone, along 
with the geological features of the district, draws attention 
to one of the most interesting and difficult geological ques- 
tions of the day. These flint instruments were evidently 
made by men, and by men to whom the first dawn of human 
civilization was unknown, who were living as savages now 
live in Australia. They knew how to make fires, as the 
pieces of charcoal show. They lived evidently in the caves, 
and destroyed the animals, the bones of which form the floor, 
by means of the flint weapons, feeding on their flesh. The 
question is, when did they live ? 






* " Notice sur les Instruments en Silex et les Ossements tronves 
dans les Cavernes a Menton." Moyes. 18(50. 







■s 



mmm 






GEOLOGY THE BONE CAVERNS. 51 

These bone caves have been found all over the world, 
and, latterly, in many, as at Mentone, the bones of animals 
have been found mixed with flint instruments. That the 
latter have been made by the hand of man appears ration- 
ally undeniable, and the first conclusion was that these 
savage men must have lived in the early historic periods ; 
for the Celts and early Gauls used flint and stone weapons 
and utensils. 

A minute investigation of the facts, however, soon proved 
that such could not be the case. Firstly, these cave flint 
utensils are quite different to those used by the Celts and 
the early tribes of the Old and New World. Secondly, they 
have been found in some of the caves mixed up with the 
bones of animals existing long before the prerent era, in 
geological epochs before, during, and after the glacial 
period. 

Thus, in a cavern at Kirkdale, in Yorkshire, have been 
found the teeth of two or three hundred hyenas. In this, 
and in that of Brixham, in Devonshire, and in other similar 
caverns, have been also found in abundance the remains of 
other races either totally extinct or extinct in these climates, 
such as the Tiger, the Bear, the Mammoth, the Tichorrhine 
Bhinoceros, the Hippopotamus, and the Irish Elk. These 
are races that existed in the warm pleiocene epoch, when 
the climate of Europe was subtropical, before the subsidence 
of continents and the formation of the glaciers that gave 
rise to the boulder and gravel drift above described. 

These races appear to have been gradually or suddenly 
destroyed, or driven south by the glacial change. I say 
suddenly, for in some parts of the world the change seems 
to have been very abrupt. A Mammoth, in the flesh, was 
dug out of the frozen shores of the Lena, in the north of 
Asia, some few years ago. Its actual flesh was eaten by 
dogs, after having been thus preserved probably for tens of 
thousands of years, and the skeleton and hair adorn the 
Museum of St. Petersburg. The skeletons of Irish Elks 
have been found in the same regions, buried in the frozen 
soil, erect, with their head thrown back, as it they had 
been suddenly overpowered, suffocated by a snow storm, 
and overwhelmed with mud and drift. The skeletons of 



52 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

Mammoths are found in such quantities, preserved in the 
frozen soil of the north of Asia, that for centuries there has 
been a brisk trade in the ivory of which their tusks are 
formed. 

If the silex weapons and utensils had only been found 
along with the bones of extinct animals in caves, doubts 
might have been raised as to their showing the trace of 
early races of men who lived when those animals lived, 
chased and destroyed them. They might have been left in 
those caves by men who inhabited them at a later period. 
But there is other evidence. 

They have been found together in the open, in beds of 
gravel and drift, the geological antiquity and date of which 
are denied by no geologist. Indeed, it is in such a bed at 
Amiens that the bones of extinct animals and flint weapons — 
the trace of man — were first discovered, by M. Boucher de 
Perthes, in the year 1840. His first statements were met 
with indifference, if not disbelief; but the most thorough 
and conscientious examination of the facts he announced, 
on the part of all the leading geologists of the day, both 
English and continental, has latterly led to their acceptance 
and confirmation. 

If men in a savage state existed before and during the 
glacial period, along with races of animals long extinct, 
and if these were the men who made the various flint 
weapons and utensils found in the Mentone caves, the pre- 
sumption is that the traces of habitation which these caves 
present belong to this far distant period of the earth's 
history. The St. Louis limestone rocks, in which the caves 
exist, long covered by the sea, were probably raised from 
its bosom in time to witness all the changes that preceded 
and followed the glacial period, and the caves themselves 
may have been inhabited before the conglomerate of Hocca- 
bruna was formed. 

In order to clear up the geological history of the Men- 
tone cave deposits, a museum has been formed in the town 
hall of Mentone, where the bones and flint utensils found 
in them by geologists are to be collected for investigation, 
along with all other specimens pertaining to the natural 
history of the district. Future inquirers, in their research 



GEOLOGY PKE-HISTORIC MAN. 



53 



for flint weapons and utensils, will find the accompanying 
woodcut valuable. It is reproduced from Mr. Page's work, 
already quoted. 




PRE-HISTOBIC FLINT INSTRUMENTS. 

1, 2, from Yalley of Somme; 3, 4, 5, England; 6, 7, 8, Canada; 
9, 10, Scandinavia. 

Having said so much on the presumed pre-historic race 
of men, I must not leave the subject, new, perhaps, to 
many, without remarking, that these investigations have 
been accepted by many of the most eminent geological 
divines. It is felt, humbly, that what is true cannot be 
contrary to Scripture, although we may not be able now to 
see the link, the concordance, and that geology may continue 
its researches into the past history of the earth, and even 
of the human race, without fear or scruple. The concor- 
dance will most assuredly come. I would also add that up 
to the present time there has been no discovery of human 
bones under such circumstances as to prevent doubt or 
cavil, although several presumed discoveries have been 
brought forward. This is, at present, one of the difficulties 
of the question. Scientific men, however, are on the look- 
out, and expect from day to day to discover them. We 



54 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

may, therefore, join in the search at Mentone, and perhaps 
find the solution to this mystery, so anxiously desired. 

The above paragraph appeared in the second edition of 
this work in 1862. It was a kind of prophecy. In March, 
1872, M. Riviere, a distinguished French geologist, dis- 
covered a well-preserved skeleton, belonging, it is generally 
considered, to pre-historic times. 

M. Riviere had been working for several winters at the 
Mentone caves under the auspices of the French Govern- 
ment, and had found bones and instruments of bone and 
silex, but no human remains. He would never, in all pro- 
bability, have found the fossil man had it not been for an 
accidental circumstance. 

In passing along the coast the railway to Genoa goes 
through a deep cutting at the base of the red rocks, in 
front of the bone caverns. This cutting is about twenty- 
one feet deep, in front of the fourth cavern. M. Riviere 
had, as he thought, exhausted this cavern in his previous 
arduous researches, and had given up all idea of pursuing 
them. The cutting, however, revealed deeper treasures, 
so he set to work with renewed vigour. He had been ex- 
cavating three months, passing the soil raised through a 
sieve, and had reached a depth of about nineteen feet below 
the surface, when he came upon the skeleton. 

I carefully examined it the 29th of March, three days 
after the first discovery, when it was still two-thirds em- 
bedded in the compact soil of the cave, along with Professor 
Hughes Bennett, of Edinburgh, and the late Dr. John 
Martin, of Portsmouth, an eminent dentist. M. Riviere 
was obliged to scrape and separate the soil from the skele- 
ton with the utmost care. This labour took him above a 
week, so anxious was he to do no injury to the bones. The 
skeleton, that of a man above six feet in height, was in a 
recumbent, semi-curved state, as in sleep or repose. Death 
must have come suddenly during sleep, or quietly during 
repose. There had evidently been a rude kind of inhuma- 
tion, for there were some large stones behind and round the 
head, and on and around the skeleton was found a metallic 
powder, apparently iron. The calcareous earth of these 



GEOLOGY THE FOSSIL MAN. 



55 



rocks contains a considerable amount of iron, so much so 
that a fracture soon reddens by oxidation of the iron. The 
iron had evidently helped, to preserve and fossilize the skele- 
ton. Still the body clearly lay where it had died, and in 
the attitude in which death had overtaken it, under the 
shelter of the cavern, the feet towards its recesses, the head, 
to the entrance. 







FROM A PHOTOGRAPH OF THE FOSSIL MAN LYING AS FOUND IN THE 
MEN TONE CAVE. 

The skeleton is that of a tall man, all but perfect, having 
no resemblance whatever to that of the orang-outang or of 
any monkey. The skull is elongated, very convex superiorly, 
dolicephalic ; teeth all present in the upper maxillary, which 
was entirely seen. The lower maxillary was only half 
exposed, but the teeth in that half were all perfect. The 
molars were worn flat, as if, said Dr. Martin, by the tritura- 
tion of hard food. The orbital cavities were very peculiar, 
different in their length and diameter from those in any 
known race of men, and rather similar to those of the skull 



56 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. , 

No. 1 found at Cro-Magnon, in Perigord, in 1868. M. 
Riviere thinks this peculiarity alone may imply a pre- 
historic lost type of man. The only means by which we 
can possibly determine the period at which this fossil man 
existed^ is the study of the fossils and instruments found 
above, around, and below the skeleton. In M. Riviere's 
published memoir (Bailliere, Paris, 1873) he gives separately 
the list of the fauna found in the twenty-one feet of soil 
above the skeleton, and the list of the fauna found imme- 
diately in contact with the skeleton, around, and imme- 
diately below. The two lists are as follows : — 

FAUNA OF THK CAVE SOIL ABOVE THE FOSSIL MAN. 

Garnivora. — Ursus spelseus, Ursus arctos, Hysena spelsea, 
Felis spelsea, Cunis lupus, Erinaceus Europseus. 

Pachyderms. — .Rhinoceros, Equus caballus, Sus scrofa. 

Hodentia. — Lepus cuniculus. 

Rumind?dia. — Bos primigenius, Cervus alces, C. elephus, 
C. canadensis, C. corsicanus (?), C. capreolus, Capra primi- 
genia, Antelope rupicapra. 

Mollusca. — The shells of mollusca were very numerous, 
and the mollusca that inhabited them no doubt served as 
food for the men who lived in the cave. Some of these 
shells were entire, some were broken. Some were perfo- 
rated, and were probably used for personal ornament. The 
mollusca were both marine and terrestrial. 

FAUNA FOUND IMMEDIATELY ABOVE, AROUND, AND BELOW 
THE SKELETON. 

Hyaena spelsea, Felis spela?a, F. antiqua, F. lynx, F. catus, 
Ursus spelseus, U. arctos, Canis lupus, C. vulpes, Rhinoceros 
tichorhinus, Equus caballus, Sus scrota, Lepus cuniculus, 
Bos primigenius, Cervus alces, C. elephus, Capra primi- 
genia. 

The instruments found by M. Riviere in this cavern were 
in bone, in deer-horn, or in stone, or in silex from the chalk 
formation which exists in the neighbourhood. Those in 
bone and horn were arrows, pointed instruments, needles, 
and instruments apparently destined to flatten the threads 



GEOLOGY — THE FOSSIL MAN. 7 

of sewn skins. Among them was one that appears to have 
been a commander's baton or staff. The stone and silex 
instruments were found by the thousand, if fragments and 
scales are to be counted. Most were well preserved, and 
many entire. The commonest forms were scrapers. They 
were made of silex from the chalk, or of agate. They were 
roughly worked, and appear to belong to the oldest-known 
stone period, the one* in which instruments in bone are rare 
and those in stone much more numerous. 

The skull of the skeleton was ornamented by Mediterra- 
nean shells, the Nassa or Cyclonassa neritea. There were 
also on it twenty-two canine teeth of the Cervus. At the 
side of the head was a poniard, or javelin, made out of the 
radius of a deer. Behind the head were two triangular 
blades in silex. 

M. Riviere has shown great reserve in his memoir as to 
his opinion respecting the geological period in which his 
fossil man lived. At p. 38, however, he says : " Among 
the various animals that I have enumerated, four more 
especially, which I had already found at a higher elevation 
in the same cavern, by their presence alone, near the skele- 
ton — the great Fells, or Fells spela, the Ursus sjjeltzus, the 
Hjjana speltea, the Rhinoceros — prove the great antiquity 
of the Baousse Rousse Man. I therefore think that I am 
warranted in considering him a contemporary of the ex- 
tinct animal species, as belonging to the paleolithic 
epoch. v 

M. Riviere has recently discovered another human adult 
skeleton, below the first, but not in such good preserva- 
tion ; as also that of a child. Both present the same cha- 
racteristics as to skull and general conformation as the first, 
and evidently belong to the same race. 

In Sir Charles LyelPs work, " The Geological Evidences 
of the Antiquity of Man/ 5 4th edition, 1873, the discovery 
of this skeleton is described, p. i44-5. Sir Charles con- 
cludes in the following words : — u . . . from the manner 
in which his remains were associated with unpolished 
implements and the bones of extinct animals, it seems not 
improbable that M. Riviere has brought to light a com- 
plete human skeleton of Paleolithic age." In the Preface, 



58 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

page vii., he says ..." I have also given a description of 
a skeleton found by M. Riviere in a cave at Mentone, 
which, from the unpolished implements and extinct animals 
associated with it, I am inclined to consider as of Paleo- 
lithic age. Since the sheets were printed, a second skeleton 
has been brought to light by M. Riviere in a neighbouring 
cavern under similar conditions. He informs me in a 
letter (April 17, 1873) that he found with this second 
human fossil a flint lance and flint hatchet, both polished. 
. . . Extinct animals were found also at a higher level 
than this second skeleton, but I infer from letters received 
from Mr. Charles Moore, now at Mentone, that the time 
of inhumation of these remains of elephants, rhinoceros, 
and cave bears, in subaerial breccias at different altitudes in 
the cliffs, will have to be critically ascertained before their 
geological bearing on the age of the human skeletons can 
be finally settled." 

It will be seen by the above that Mr. Charles Moore 
doubts the Paleolithic (or unpolished stone) age of the 
skeletons, and thinks they may belong only to the neo- 
lithic or polished stone period, whereas Sir Charles Lyell 
appears to lean to their Paleolithic character. 

AGRICULTURAL GEOLOGY. 

As we have seen, several of the lower or secondary 
hills enclosed in the amphitheatre are formed of a loose 
sandstone. With this exception the soil may be said to 
be principally of limestone formation, with here and there 
aluminous clays. The agricultural geology of the district 
is, consequently, exceedingly interesting, offering much to 
observe in a very limited area. 

The clay strata, in their natural unworked state, appear, 
as elsewhere in Italy, very sterile. The sides of the deep 
ravines worn in them by mountain torrents present little 
natural vegetation ; as may be seen in the upper part of 
the Gorbio valley, and to the east of the mountain village 
of Castellare. Where, however, the fall is not precipitous, 
and especially where terraces have been formed, and the 
soil has been worked and manured, the clay strata appear 
to become very productive. This is easily explained, as 



AGRICULTURAL GEOLOGY. 59 

clays contain the potash, lime, and other salts necessary for 
vegetation, and everywhere merely require cultivation and 
irrigation to become fertile. 

The sandstone hills are more naturally fertile than the 
clays, to their own peculiar vegetation — Conifers, Heaths, 
and Brooms — but do not offer the same resources to culti- 
vation. The soil being principally siiicious, and containing 
in very small proportion the salts and mineral constituents 
required for cereals and the vegetation of good land, it 
does not appear to become so easily fertile under cultiva- 
tion. Still, with the help of terraces, irrigation, and 
manuring, it seems to respond to the wants of the ever- 
green Olive, Lemon, and Orange-trees, especially where the 
sand joins the limestone, and there is a mixture of both. 

The green sand, where it appears, gives as usual a most 
productive soil, as for instance high up in the Cabrole 
valley, north of St a . Agnese. 

The hard stratified limestone which constitutes the 
Mentonian basin, and of which the higher range of hills 
is mainly, if not entirely, composed, by its decomposition 
forms a very fertile soil. Indeed, the gradual disintegra- 
tion of this hard marble-like rock admirably illustrates 
the formation of soils in the early period of the earth's 
creation. Like limestones in general it contains, locked 
up in its all but adamantine structure, most of the mineral 
elements necessary for vegetation, including iron. The 
presence of iron is at once apparent from the red hue of 
the more perpendicular rocks. When a fracture occurs, 
the fracture is at first white, but from exposure to the air 
the iron passes to the state of the red peroxide, in which 
state it is well known, if not too abundant, to greatly in- 
crease the fertility of soils. Hence the red hue of the rocks 
which bound the inner bay near the Pont St. Louis, and of 
the soil generally, formed by the detritus of these rocks. 

At the foot and on the sides of these limestone rocks are 
vast masses of stones and detritus that have fallen from 
the cliffs adjoining, broken off by the combined action of 
moisture, sun, and wind. These gradually crumble where 
they lie, yielding up their mineral constituents, and forming 
a suitable nidus flu- seeds sown either by the hand of 



60 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

Nature or by that of man. If the lemon or olive is 
planted in such soil, it grows at once vigorously and 
healthily. If vegetables and cereals are sown, they appear 
to be equally at home. The numerous terraces recently 
constructed on the side of the mountain, and at the foot 
of the cliffs near the St. Louis ravine, and the self-sown 
plants growing naturally in the same region, illustrate 
these facts. Thus, no doubt, was the soil of the habitable 
globe formed when its mountains first reared their heads 
above the waves. 

From what precedes, it will be at once understood that 
the vegetation of the Mentonian amphitheatre, except that 
of the sand hills, is what may be termed a lime vegetation. 
In other words, the plants that thrive the best are prin- 
cipally those that flourish in a calcareous soil, in districts 
in which lime is a component part of the soil. 

Thus iv} r grows freely in the ravines, and on the walls, 
where there is moisture. Pellitory, essentially a lime plant, 
grows out of every wall and terrace. Wallflower, Virginian 
Stock, and Pink and Carnation' grow and bloom most 
luxuriantly in the gardens, with little or no cultivation. 
They form large bushes in the winter, and are one huge 
mass of luxuriant blossom very early in spring. There is a 
small wild Pink, a native, which grows out of crevices in 
the driest and most sunburnt rocks. The Odoaster rubrum, 
or red Valerian, grow 7 s wild everywhere, throwing out thick 
succulent stems and large spikes of flower from mere crevices 
in the dry sunburnt rock. 

To these may be added, as examples of lime-plants, the 
Arum Arisarum, the Fumitory, the Cneorum tricoccum, and 
the Crassulacese or Stonecrops. The Fumitory is the com- 
monest wild plant. It grows and flowers everywhere on 
the terraces throughout the winter. The Arum Arisarum is 
equally prolific and universal. Its dull purple flower covers 
the olive terraces, and attracts immediate attention after 
the autumn rains. I am told that the root is good food for 
pigs, but it is deep below the surface, consequently of rather 
difficult extraction, and appears not to be thought worth 
digging up. Moreover, pigs do not seem to be much 



AGRICULTURAL GEOLOGY. 61 

esteemed, or their society cultivated in the Mentonian 
district. 

The Cneorum tricoccum is a rather elegant, small-sized 
bushy plant, with small dark-green leaves, small yellow 
flowers, and trilobed seed, which is only found in the 
wildest, rockiest, and driest regions ; in such localities, 
for instance, as the rocks above the St. Louis Bridge, 
where it grows freely. It belongs to the Terebinthacese, 
chiefly a tropical order, and is in flower all winter; although 
usually three petalled and three seeded, it is occasionally 
four petalled and four seeded. Along with it, because 
found in the same localities, must be named a very lovely 
shrubby malvaceous plant, the Lavatera, with delicate 
pinky-white " mallow" flowers. It blossoms very freely 
all winter in the above localities, and always attracts the 
attention of the stranger who leaves the shore and the 
terraces to climb the rocky heights. 

The Stonecrops are very abundant on the walls, in the 
warmest and driest regions, generally growing out of their 
interstices. They flower in April. 

Nor must I forget to mention, as adorning these rocky 
regions, Rue, Rosemary, and wild Thyme. The two latter 
grow freely and abundantly, flowering all winter. We can 
thus, throughout the winter, in December and January, 
murmur sotto voce, — 

" I know a rock whereon the wild thyme grows." 

Another aromatic labiate, found abundantly, is Mint ; but 
its habitat is different. It must be looked for in lanes and 
damp ravines, in moist localities. 

The soil suits the Vine, which flourishes in all such 
mountain regions with a southern exposure, on the Medi- 
terranean shores. It is principally cultivated on terraces, 
at from 500 to 2000 feet above the sea level, and for- 
merly very good wine was made in the district, some of 
which may still be had. For many years, however, the 
o'idium reigned with the same savage intensity as at 
Madeira, and no wine whatever was produced. No doubt 
the evil might have been remedied by procuring sound 



62 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

cuttings from the neighbourhood of Aix, where the disease 
has never appeared, and by sulphuring assiduously. But 
the Mentonian agriculturists had not sufficient energy 
or enterprise to adopt this course. They succumbed to 
what they thought the will of God, considering it, I am 
told, impious to strive against the disease. To me their 
inaction was more likely the result of that apathy and dis- 
inclination to adopt new-fangled ways that characterizes 
the agricultural mind, in all countries. Latterly Vines have 
been planted, and before long we may hope to see good 
wine again produced at Mentone. The presence of strangers 
has created a ready market, and no doubt an effort will be 
made to supply their wants. 

During the winter the Vines are without leaves, and, 
being like old ropes when trailed, Italian fashion, from tree 
to tree, add nothing to the beauty of the scene. The Peach 
and Almond-trees are equally devoid of foliage, and there- 
fore shine by their absence. They blossom, however, in 
February, and then become ornamental ; they are more 
numerous in the vicinity of the higher mountain villages 
than near the shore. 

Fruit-trees of all kinds seem to find the sea-level too 
warm, and are principally cultivated at a much greater 
elevation, such as the vicinity of the Turbia, or of St a . 
Agnese, above 2000 feet high. Here Vines, Apple, Pear, 
Cherry, Peach, and Almond-trees abound, covering the ter- 
races, and taking the place of the Olive-tree. The winter 
frosts are severe at this elevation, for I have repeatedly 
seen ice an inch thick. This degree of winter cold seems, 
indeed, to suit their constitution better than the mild winter 
climate of the seashore region. 



CHAPTEE III. 

PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND METEOROLOGY OF THE RIVIERA 
AND OF MENTONE. 

The characteristics of the Mentone winter climate are, " Absence of 
frost, prevalence of northerly winds, moderate dryness of the 
atmosphere, complete absence of fog, paucity of rainy days, 
clearness and blueness of sky, general heat and brilliancy of 
sun, cool night temperature, a bracing coolness of the atmo- 
sphere generally, and a mean difference of 12° 8'. Fahr. only 
between the day maximum and the night minimum." — (p. 81.) 

Careful observation, during* fifteen winters, of the meteor- 
ological conditions which reign on the Genoese Riviera, 
and at Mentone, has gradually led tne to form a clear idea 
of their nature and of their influence over the climate. 

As we have seen, the Mentonian district, which has been 
the principal seat of my observation and study, is a small 
amphitheatre, situated on the coast-line or undercliff of the 
mountains of southern Europe, as they reach the Mediter- 
ranean. To the north-east, north, and north-west, are the 
highest mountain chains of Europe, extending hundreds of 
miles (see Maps, Gulf of Genoa and of Mediterranean). 
Further still to the north-east lies the table-land of Europe, 
which reaches to the arctic regions. As a necessarj^ result 
of this geographical position, the northern winds, especially 
the north and north-east, must be very dry winds. Firstly, 
they have been dried by travelling over a great continent. 
Secondly, they have had nearly all the remaining moisture 
wrung out of them by the extreme cold of the high regions 
which they have to pass over when crossing the Alpine 
chains, before they reach the Mediterranean. 

The physical evidences of the extreme dryness of the 
atmosphere, when northerly winds reign, are manifold. 



64 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

Firstly, with a north and north-east wind, there is gene- 
rally a difference of from nine to twelve degrees Fahr. be- 
tween the wet and dry-bulb thermometers. With the 
north-west, which crosses lower mountain chains, and may 
come from the North Atlantic, the difference is generally 
from five to eight or nine degrees. Secondly, the atmo- 
sphere is usually clear, the sky blue, the sun shines warmly, 
the nights are comparatively cold, and the summits of 
mountains, above four thousand feet high, are free from 
clouds. 

These phenomena are easily explained on meteorological 
grounds. The presence of moisture in the air, either as 
imperceptible vapour or as cloud, gives a white appearance 
to the sky, and veils the earth from the sun's rays. It 
thus becomes a kind of shield, a protection from the 
warmth of the sun. "When moisture scarcely exists, and 
the air is dry, as in the Mediterranean basin with a north 
wind, in Egypt, in the desert of Sahara with south winds, 
indeed in all dry regions, the sky is always blue, the sun 
shines with great power, and at night, owing to rapid 
radiation of the earth's heat into space, the air becomes, 
comparatively, cold. Such is the climate of the north 
Mediterranean coast with northerly winds. The sky is 
clear and blue, the sun shines like a globe of fire, which it 
really is, and its rays reach the earth with great power. 
The nights are then clear, the stars shine with a brightness 
unknown in the north, and the temperature of the air is 
cold, compared with what it is in the daytime. 

The English climate is partly explained by the above 
facts. The atmosphere above the British Isles is always 
loaded with aqueous vapour, which gives to the sky its 
usual whitish colour. The aqueous vapour of the atmo- 
sphere shields the earth from the action of the sun's rays 
during day, and prevents radiation during night. Hence 
the coolness of our summer, as compared with that of the 
same Continental latitudes, where this aqueous shield is 
wanting. In winter, when the sun is low on the horizon 
and its rays are feeble, the cloud atmosphere, by preventing 
radiation, keeps in the heat previously acquired, and con- 
tributes, with the Gulf stream, to render the British winter 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND METEOROLOGY. 65 

milder than that of the drier Continental regions in the 
same parallel of latitude. 

The influence of these meteorological conditions on 
climate has been well explained, of late, by Professor 
Tyndall in his lectures on heat. It is also beautifully 
illustrated by the meteorological observations of Mr. 
Glaisher, during his aeronautic ascensions. Once above 
the aqueous vapour and the clouds, which extend several 
thousand feet high in our climate, a dry atmospheric 
region is reached, where the sky appears intensely blue. 
The sun's rays here have so much power that they scorch 
and blister the face and hands, although the thermometer 
may be much below the freezing point. 

The Mediterranean climate, when the north winds blow, 
is like this upper region of our own atmosphere. The air, 
containing but little moisture if these north winds reign, 
as they do during the greater part of the winter, the sky is 
blue, and the sun shines through it fiercely, even in mid- 
winter. It thus warms directly all the objects with which 
it comes in contact, and by reflection everything, for some 
distance from the cliffs or mountains. 

The north-west wind, called the mistral in this part of 
the Mediterranean, blows from the centre and south of 
France as a cold, dry, cutting wind, which is much dreaded. 
There are many explanations and theories as to its origin, 
but I think that there is no doubt as to its being a wind 
originating in the mountainous region of France that 
extends from Switzerland to the western Pyrenees, includ- 
ing the Dauphiny Alps," the Puy de Dome, and the 
Cevennes. Cold air rushes down from these regions to the 
Mediterranean basin to take the place of the rarefied warm 
air that ascends. One of the great climate advantages of 
Mentone is its complete protection from this wind by the 
Turbia mountain, which separates it from Nice. When the 
mistral blows, the sky remains blue, and the sun shines 
warmly. Sometimes, however, the north-west wind blows 
no longer as a local wind, originating' in the south of 
France, but as a grand north-west European wind, coming 
from the North seas and North-west Atlantic. Then it 
brings black clouds loaded with rain, which may fall in 



66 . THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

the district, or out at sea, and the difference between the 
wet and the dry bulb thermometers diminishes. 

Thus when rain does fall, with a north-west wind, the 
cause is generally a grand oceanic and European north- 
westerly storm ; but such rain is rare. It is still more so 
with the strictly continental winds, the north-east, and 
east. Indeed, when rain falls at Mentone with any 
such winds, it is generally at the end of a European gale 
from these regions, covering all Europe with snow and ice, 
of which the newspapers bring us the details a few days 
later. Such rain becomes snow on the higher elevations of 
the mountains that surround and enclose Mentone. 

Even with a direct south-east wind, snow may fall, ex- 
ceptionally, inside the Mentone amphitheatre, owing to 
its being open to the south-east in a line with the high 
mountains of Corsica, which lie directly south-east, and are 
then covered with snow. Snow, with a south-easterly 
wind, generally falls in the latter part of the winter, in 
March for instance, when immense masses of snow have 
accumulated on the Corsican mountains. Before this ac- 
cumulation has taken place, in early winter, the south-east 
wind is a warm wind, the scirocco. 

Thus, during winter there is very little rain from the 
northern quarters ; and as, during the winter months, from 
November to May, the wind is generally from these 
quarters, the dry, clear, sunny, but cool winter climate of 
Mentone is explained. The exceptional winter warmth, 
for the latitude, depends on mountain protection, and on 
other causes, which will be presently examined and ex- 
plained, not on latitude. 

When rain falls, with the wind steadily in these northern 
quarters, it is gentle, moderate in quantity, never presenting 
the tropical character of furious downpour. 

When the northerly winds bring clouds and scud over 
the mountains, and the atmosphere in the Mentonian 
amphitheatre and out at sea is warm, these clouds often 
melt gradually, and disappear. It is a very interesting 
sight o see thick banks of clouds thus rising over the 
summits of the higher mountains in the background, gene- 
rally from the north-west, expanding on the sky above, and 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND METEOROLOGY. 67 

then melting away as they advance southwards, into 
warmer atmospheric strata. After a time, however, if the 
wind which impels them is powerful, they cool the air, 
accumulate, and the entire sky becomes overcast. 

With south-westerly and south-easterly winds, the fall of 
rain at Men tone, and on the Riviera in general, is often 
very great in a limited space of time — -indeed, quite tropi- 
cal. This is also sometimes the case when northerly winds 
meet southerly currents on or near the coast line, and 
condense their moisture. The rainfall may in either case 
amount to five or six inches in the twenty-four hours. 

Whenever this occurs, the watercourses are filled, from 
bank to bank, with enormous volumes of water, which 
carry down great masses of stone like straws from the 
mountains, and excavate wide beds as they approach the 
shore line. These watercourses are, at other times, as in 
central and southern Italy, mere rivers of stones, with a 
thin stream of water trickling through the middle. On 
one night, Dec. 1859, four and a half inches fell in ten 
hours. The greatest amount of rain that was known to 
have fallen in twenty-four hours at Greenwich, in five 
years, was 2*63 inches (Drew). 

The smallest rills become impetuous torrents when the 
rain falls with this tropical violence. As they rush madly 
to the sea, their yellow waters, like those of the " flavus 
Tiber" of the old Latin poets, carry down vast quantities 
of stones and earth, washed from the mountain sides, and 
discolour the waves for some distance from the shore. The 
descent of these earth and stone-laden waters into the sea 
illustrates, on a small scale, the way in which the deltas at 
the mouth of large rivers, such as the Nile, the Ganges, 
the Mississippi, have been and are being created. It also 
illustrates the mode of formation in past geological eras of 
the Neptunian or sedimentary strata. The earth contained 
in solution and thrown into the sea, gradually subsides and 
sinks to the bottom, there forming horizontal layers, the 
composition and nature of which depend on the kind of soil 
carried away from the land by the river or torrent. As 
these deposits take place, numerous animated beings, es- 
pecially those that cannot get away very fast from the 



G8 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

mud-shower, such as crustacean become entombed, to con- 
stitute the fossils of future ages. 

These heavy rains, as we have seen, are all but confined 
to the southerly winds, or to their collision with northerly 
winds, on the shore mountains, or near the shore. Coming 
from the warm south, the southerly winds are warm, and, 
in passing over the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, absorb 
large quantities of moisture. On arriving at the mountain- 
girt coast of the Riviera, they are arrested by cold currents 
from the north, or have to ascend the sides of the mountain 
ranges. In either case, in winter, they come in contact 
with cooler atmospheric strata, and are obliged to part 
with their moisture, which forms dense clouds and is 
rapidly precipitated in the shape of heavy rain. 

The total rainfall during my first winter's residence at 
Men tone, 1859-60, was 23'68 in., from October 9th to 
April 21st; viz., October, 8*02 in.; November, 2*21 in. ; 
December, 6'96 in. ; January, 3*24 in. ; February, "18 in.; 
March, 1*26 in. ; April, 1*81 in. These data were given 
me by a friend who kept an accurate register. According 
to my own observations, it rained in that winter, in 
November five days, in December five, in January four, in 
February one, in March six, and in April, up to the 23rd, 
eight days; in all, twenty-nine days, from November 3rd 
until April 23rd. In October it rained nearly every day. 

The heaviest and most continuous rain always occurs 
with a south-westerly equatorial wind. Coming from the 
Atlantic, and having traversed a great extent of the 
Mediterranean, from Gibraltar to the Gulf of Genoa, this 
south-westerly wind impinges on the shore in successive 
blasts laden with moisture, which is precipitated in im- 
mense quantities as in the tropics. It is also with these 
gales that are seen the heaviest seas. 

It very often rains on the mountains, or a few miles out 
at sea, when it is quite clear and fine on and near the sea- 
shore. In the former case, the wind is generally a southern 
wind, and, as it ascends the mountain, it evidently meets 
with colder strata of air, which precipitate its moisture, 
forming rain clouds. I have repeatedly sat on the moun- 
tain-side and watched a current of warm air rise from the 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND METEOROLOGY. 69 

sea, at a distance, form at first a vapour on the shore, and 
then a white cloud, gradually ascending the mountain. It 
is singular to see the small cloud thus spring, as it were, 
from the waves near the coast-line, gradually expanding 
and enlarging as it creeps up the mountain-side. I was, 
indeed, forcibly reminded of the fisherman in the Arabian 
tale, who opens a casket on the sea-shore, from which the 
geni issues in the form of a thin vapour, which rapidly 
becomes a cloud, covering the horizon. 

A more reverent and more striking illustration of this 
phenomenon is to be found in the history of the prophet 
Elijah, in sacred writ (1 Kings, chap, xviii.), "And he said 
to his servant, Go up now, look towards the sea .... and it 
came to pass at the seventh time, that he said, Behold, 
there ariseth a little cloud out of the sea, like a man's hand. 
And he said, Go up, say unto Ahab, Prepare thy chariot, 
and get thee down, that the rain stop thee not. And it 
came to pass in the meanwhile, that the heaven was black 
with clouds and wind, and there was a great rain." 

The rain, in these instances, is often confined to the 
upper mountains, and increases the volume of torrents and 
rivulets, although it may remain quite fine at and around 
Mentone, as also on the sea horizon. 

AVhen, on the contrary, it rains a few miles out at sea, 
whilst there is fine dry weather at Mentone, the wind 
generally comes from the contrary direction, from the 
north. The cold north wind, passing overhead, impinges 
upon the sea some distance from the shore, meeting warmer 
atmospheric strata. Dark banks of clouds thus form on 
the horizon and rain falls several miles from the coast. 
In either case the coast ledge may, and often does, enjoy 
a happy immunity. 

The average fall of rain at Nice is 25 inches. I pre- 
sume that the annual fall at Mentone is greater, from its 
being surrounded by mountains on all sides but the south, 
the south-east, and south-west. According to Roubaudi, 
the author of a valuable work on the climate of Nice, the 
average number of rainy days at Nice is sixty. M. de 
Brea, a native and resident of Mentone, and a gentleman 
of high scientific attainments, has published a meteorolo- 



70 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

gical table, founded on ten years' observation, from 1851 
to 1861. According to his experience, the average number 
of days or nights during which it rained little or much at 
Mentone is 80, or 20 more than at Nice. We may pre- 
sume, therefore, that the fall of rain is greater, although 
the consequence is not necessary. At Greenwich, the 
average rainfall is only 25 inches, yet the number of 
rainy days is 155. At Torquay, the average number of 
rainy days is also 155. At Pan, the average rainfall is 43 
inches; rainy days, 119. At Malaga, the number of rainy 
days is only 40 (Francis). At Madeira, the rainfall is 
variable ; the average about 30 inches, the rainy days 88 
(Dr. White). 

The principal rainfall takes place at the autumn and 
spring equinoxes. In autumn the sun is descending towards 
the equator, and drags the south-westerly winds with him. 
The north wind takes advantage of the opportunity of the 
weakening of its adversary's forces, and gives battle. From 
the collision follow tears in the shape of rain, thunder, and 
lightning, nature's artillery. The result is then always 
the same, the north wind is victorious, drives the south 
wind towards the tropics on the trace of its general, the 
sun, and winter is established. At the spring equinox all 
is reversed. It is the north wind that is in possession, and 
the south wind that, advancing with its general, the sun, 
from the equator towards the north, gives battle. Once 
more' torrents of rain fall, once more thunder and lightning 
announce the fierce contest of the elements. This time, 
however, it is the constantly reinforced battalions from the 
south that are victorious, the north wind is driven back, 
and summer is once more established. 

This explanation, although more poetical than scien- 
tific, of the equinoxes and of the cause of the heavy rains 
that then fall, is strictly correct. These rains are the 
result of a contest between the north and south winds, in 
connexion with the sun's path, descending to and ascend- 
ing from the equator. 

The amount of rain that falls does not so much charac- 
terize the climate of a locality as the manner in which it 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND METEOROLOGY. 71 

falls. At Mentone, as at Nice, -and along the entire 
Riviera, thoroughly cloudy days, and days of incessant 
rain, are rare. They do, however, occur occasionally in 
the winter, principally at the autumn and spring equinoxes, 
and generally with continued southerly winds. The sky is 
then quite obscured, so that the sun is not seen, as in the 
north, and rain may fall for several days and nights. But 
this does not usually take place more than two or three 
times in the course of the winter. Many inches of rain 
fall on these occasions, thoroughly soaking the ground. 
After two or three days, the clouds disperse, the sun shines 
forth, and again careers through a clear blue sky, like a 
blazing fire. In a few hours the ground becomes dry, and 
many days of uninterrupted sunshine generally follow, 
during which out-door life goes on as during a fine rainless 
September with us. 

There are, thus, two rainy seasons on the Riviera: the 
autumnal equinox, at the latter end of September, and 
during October, and the vernal equinox, in March, 
ending with the first week of April. The autumnal rainy 
season is rather irregular in its periodicity. It usually 
occurs under the influence of south-westerly gales, and 
extends, more or less, into November. The rains do not 
last, in most winters, more than three or four weeks, and 
that not continuously. The rest of the winter, until the 
spring, is generally dry and fine, under the influence of 
the northerly winds, with the exception of a few occasional 
days of rain, when the wind turns to southern quarters. 
Heavy rain again falls in the latter half of March, with 
south-westerly or south-easterly gales and storms, as in 
northern Europe. These rains saturate the earth and 
renew the springs; under their fostering influence, and 
with the help of the ardent sun, which shines through the 
clear dry atmosphere, vegetation then advances with sur- 
prising rapidity. 

As in England, and in most other regions, the seasons, 
and more especially the winter, vary in different years, 
so that it is difficult to form a correct opinion from the 
experience of any one year. There are winters during 



72 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

which south-westerly winds prevail, often clouding 8 the 
sky and bringing rain, at intervals, throughout the winter; 
Such were the winters of 1864-65 and of 1868-69. 

During the summer but little or no rain falls. In some 
years the drought lasts, without cessation, for six or seven 
months, from April or May to October or November: 
Thence the absolute necessity of tanks for the irrigation of 
the lemon and orange-trees, which, as we have stated, cannot 
thrive and bear fruit without irrigation during the dry season. 

The exceptional dryness of the summer along the Riviera, 
in the south of France, in Spain, and in the Mediterranean 
generally, is explained by the fact that this great inland 
sea lies on the northern limit of that part of the earth's 
surface to which, in physical geography, is given the name 
of " the rainless tract." The highest expression of this 
region is the desert of Sahara, which continues those of 
Arabia and Central Asia. The principal cause of their exis- 
tence is, no doubt, the passage of north-easterly winds over 
Asia and southern Europe during the entire year, either as 
upper or surface currents. These winds, passing over con- 
tinents and great chains of mountains, gradually lose their 
moisture, until they have but little to bestow on the regions 
they reach in the more advanced stage of their progress, 
and the latter consequently become dry regions or deserts, 
for want of rain. 

The winds that course over the earth's surface may be 
divided into two principal currents. The one, from the 
poles to the equator ; the other, a return current from the 
equator to the poles. Owing to the earth's diurnal motion 
of rotation, the wind from the poles to the equator takes a 
slanting easterly direction ; that from the equator to the 
poles, a westerly one. Thus, in the northern hemisphere 
the wind from the pole to the equator is a north-east wind; 
that from the equator to the pole a south-westerly one. 
From the tropic of Cancer, or from about latitude 30°, to 
the equatorial region, the north-east wind is always a 
surface wind, and constitutes the north-east trade. From 
the pole to the tropic the systemic north-east wind is either 
an upper current or a surface one, according to seasons and 
other influences. 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND METEOROLOGY. 73 

The presence of high mountain chains in the south of 
Europe, and the rarefaction of the atmosphere by sun-heat 
in the great Mediterranean basin, both contribute to bring 
the upper north-easterly systemic wind to the lower atmo- 
spheric regions, and to make it a surface wind during a great 
portion of the year in the Mediterranean region. The south- 
westerly, or passage return winds, which are all but con- 
stant in the North Atlantic Ocean, consequently reach the 
shores of Europe, to the north of the Mediterranean level, 
during the greater part of the year. They bring moisture 
and rain with them, and thence the very rainy climate of 
Brittany, Normandy, and of the south and west coast of 
England. In winter the trade winds, following the declen- 
sion of the sun towards the equator, descend south ; these 
south-west winds replace them, aud thus descend to the most 
southern latitudes of Europe. The presence of these south- 
westerly winds at lower latitudes as winter approaches seems 
to be the principal cause of the autumnal rains in the south 
of France, Spain, and in the Mediterranean basin generally. 

Maury, in his interesting work on the " Physical Geo- 
graphy of the Seas," attributes the existence of the " rain- 
less tract" in Asia and Europe to the influence of the Andes 
or Cordilleras of South America, 

According to this view, the south-east trade winds of the 
southern hemisphere, after sweeping the wide surface of the 
Atlantic, and becoming perfectly saturated with moisture, 
reach the continent of South America below the equator ; 
they cross it, and meet the huge mountain barrier of the 
Andes, ascending its eastern sides to an enormous elevation, 
varying from fourteen to twenty thousand feet. The ex- 
treme coldness of the upper regions of the Andes leads to 
the precipitation of the moisture which the winds contain — 
squeezes it out of them. Thence the origin of the immense 
rivers which descend from the eastern slopes of these moun- 
tains, such as the Amazon and the Orinoco, two of the 
largest rivers in the world. 

These moist south-easterly Atlantic trades, after thus 
precipitating their moisture, become dry winds. In the 
equatorial calms they cross the north-east trades, ascend to 
the upper regions of the atmosphere, and then direct their 



74 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

course to the north-east, as an upper south-west current. 
Recrossing the South American continent, they reach the 
Atlantic, and cross it, still as an upper south-west current, 
for the north-easterly trades occupy the surface of the 
Atlantic between the 30th degree of latitude and the equa. 
torial calms. Above the northern limit of the trades they 
again become surface winds, and constitute the south- 
westerly or passage winds of North Africa and of Europe. 
Reaching the north-western coast of Africa, still as dry 
winds — for, as we have seen, they have passed the Atlantic 
as a dry upper current to the north-eastern trades — they 
have no moisture to give to a level surface, and thence, 
according to this theory, the desert of Sahara, and, in 
summer, the dryness of southern Europe. 

The fact of the Mediterranean south-westerly wind in 
summer being a dry South American south-west wind which 
has passed over the Atlantic as an upper current to the 
north-east trades, is proved, according to Maury, by a very 
singular natural fact. Occasionally, from time immemorial, 
a kind of red dust settles on the decks and sails of vessels 
in the Mediterranean and on its islands and shores. Sub- 
mitted recently to microscopic examination, it has been 
discovered that this dust, which was supposed to come from 
the African deserts, is composed of the microscopic shells 
of infusoria which inhabit the Brazils, the dried summer 
beds of the tributaries of the Amazon and Orinoco. The 
furious south-westerly dry wind of these regions evidently 
raises them up as impalpable dust, wafts them across 
the Atlantic as an upper current to the north-east trade, 
and finally deposits them in summer on the Cape Verde 
Islands and Mediterranean Sea, on Sicily, on Malta, and 
on the Grecian Archipelago. Maury looks upon this fact 
as conclusive evidence of the crossing of the south-easterly 
and north-easterly trades in the calm regions of the equator, 
and of their return to the north and south poles as south- 
westerly and north-westerly winds. In winter, as the 
northern limit of the trade-winds is lower, these upper 
currents descend at a lower latitude in the Atlantic, and 
reach the Mediterranean, not as dry winds, but as moist 
water-laden south-westerly winds, , 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND METEOROLOGY. 75 

During the fifteen winters that I have passed at Men- 
tone, living in the eastern bay, I have never seen a fog, 
either at sea or land, day or night, morning or evening, 
except on one occasion early in May. This fact is the more 
remarkable, as on my first visit to Corsica, in the month 
of April, 1862, for several da} r s there was a sea- fog all 
round the island. It rose to about thirty feet above the 
sea or shore, the weather being beautiful and sunny, and I 
was told by passengers on board the steamer from Mar- 
seilles to Ajaccio that it extended from one port to the 
other. The following explanation given me by my late 
friend Professor Rogers I believe to be the true one : — 

Whenever the air comes from the land it is from the 
north, and in this region it is so very dry that it absorbs 
all the moisture it can possibly obtain from the sea, how- 
ever low its temperature, without forming vapour or fog. 
Whenever, on the contrary, the air comes from the south 
or seawards, both it and the land it reaches are so warm 
that its capacity for the absorption of vapour is sufficient 
to enable it to continue to retain it until it has reached a 
considerable elevation. It does not, therefore, part with 
moisture, in the form of fog or cloud, until it has ascended 
the mountains to a considerable height. 

When the lowest clouds are several thousand feet higher 
than their summit, the atmospheric dryness must be very 
great. In the upper regions of the sky, above the moun- 
tains, are often seen slight fleecy masses of cirrus, torn and 
twisted by aerial currents, which reflect in the most beautiful 
manner the bright light of the southern day. Still more 
beautiful are the dense masses of cumulus cloud which are 
frequently seen hanging over the high mountains of Corsica, 
on the south-eastern horizon, anchored, as it were, to their 
summits. Towards sunset they are often tinged with 
glorious hues reflected from the west. The brilliancy of 
these clouds, floating in the upper regions of a serene, clear 
atmosphere, often several miles above the earth, is partly 
owing to their being composed of snow. Once the region 
of eternal snow is reached, — in this latitude about eight 
thousand feet high, — the clouds themselves become con- 
gealed, and float in the air as masses of downy snow. 



76 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

Generally speaking the sky is clear, and the sun shines 
in the heavens like a globe of fire. Even on cloudy days 
the sun is often seen, and its power felt. So powerful are 
its rays when the sky is clear that even in December or 
January it is disagreeable to walk without the lined parasol, 
so generally carried in the East. The use of these parasols 
is not confined to ladies, few gentlemen braving the sun 
without them. They are a positive want, and those who 
object to their use at first get headache, and are sure to, 
adopt them before long. Those who have lived in tropical 
climates often assume the peculiar headgear used in India 
as a protection against the sun. 

Sunshine is quite different in the south of Europe to 
what it is in England and the north-west of Europe. In 
our climate the air, even in summer, is filled with watery 
vapour, which, as we have seen, gives a whitish hue to the 
sky in July or August, and mitigates the power of the sun's 
rays. In the Mediterranean region it is otherwise. In fine 
weather, winter or summer, the sky is of a hard blue, and 
objects at a distance of many miles are seen clearly and 
distinctly, without any of that haze which forms so peculiar 
a feature in an English landscape. Immediately behind 
the house where I reside rises a mountain, the Berceau, 
the higher peak of which is 3850 feet high. It is gene- 
rally, throughout the winter, perfectly free from clouds, 
and seems so near that nothing but absolute barometrical 
measurement convinced me of its real height; the summit 
does not appear to the eye to be more than 2500 feet above 
the sea level at the very utmost. Indeed, this mountain, as 
well as its neighbours and companions, may be considered 
first-rate hygrometers. The position of the clouds above its 
peaks, or on its flanks, indicates in the most unmistakeable 
manner the degree of dryness of the atmosphere. If we 
calculate 1° of difference between the wet and dry bulb 
thermometer for each 300 feet of elevation from the sea 
level, free from cloud, there must be above 13° of dryness in 
the upper atmospheric strata for this mountain to be entirely 
free from clouds and mist. 

The great dryness of the atmosphere is proved by another 
interesting meteorological phenomenon. Even when the 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND METEOROLOGY. 77 

wind is in the south, and rain is falling in torrents, there 
is often a considerable difference between the wet and dry 
bulb thermometer (from three to four or five degrees). The 
rain appears to be formed in the upper atmospheric regions, 
and to fall through the air without saturating it, as occurs 
in northern climates. When such is the case there is 
not that feeling of dampness usually experienced when rain 
falls in the north, and chest invalids are not oppressed as in 
moister climates. 

There are thus many influences that combine to render 
the atmosphere dry in winter : the prevalence of northerly 
winds, the great power of the sun, the freedom from fog, 
the small number of rainy days, and the dry, rocky cha- 
racter of the soil. This dryness of the air is illustrated by 
the fact that wet linen dries, out of the sun, in a short time, 
at any period of the winter, except when it rains or the sky 
is obscured. Throughout the winter it is possible to sit out 
of doors for many hours at a time, and for many days 
together, in sunny sheltered spots. This I am in the habit 
of doing myself, every winter, in leisure hours. I merely 
choose a spot sheltered from the wind, at the foot of a wall, 
rock, or Olive-tree, and exposed to the sun, from which it 
is, however, generally necessary to be protected by a lined 
parasol. AYithout this precaution the position would often 
be quite untenable. A thermometer in such a situation, 
in the shade, generally marks from 60° to 64°. At the 
lounger's feet, and arouud, are always insects, attracted in 
rocky places by the masses of wild thyme, and by other 
flowers. 

There is a great charm in thus reading and musing for 
hours, especially with agreeable companions, seated on the 
ground in some lovely, sunny, picturesque nook, such, for 
instance, as the western coast of the Cap Martin, or the 
warm terraces of the eastern bay. Nothing is more invigo- 
rating or refreshing to the invalid. Indeed, this lazarone 
enjoyment in midwinter of sunshine, air, and scenery is 
much more beneficial for invalids and aged persons than 
long tiring' walks. 

AVhilst speaking of insects I must mention that one of 
the charms of the climate is that, notwithstanding the 



78 THE KIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

warmth and sunshine of the days, there is an all but com- 
plete immunity out of doors from all venomous insects, 
gnats, or mosquitoes during' the winter, after the first cold 
nights in December. Mosquitoes, however, may be kept 
alive artificially all winter by the rooms being maintained 
at a high temperature. If they are fed at night, and thus 
kept warm in the day, they may live on indefinitely. This 
immunity is owing to the general coolness of the night 
temperature. Previous to the first cold nights in November 
or December, in the autumn, the mosquitoes are very 
troublesome, owing to the beds being generally furnished 
with curtains which are no protection whatever. They are 
usually open, and of too close a material for it not to be 
insufferably close when they are brought together. It is 
quite worth an invalids while to have regular net mosquito 
curtains, such as are used in India, made on arrival. Once 
they have disappeared, the mosquitoes do not reappear 
until summer. 

According to M. de Breads statistics, omitting the frac- 
tions, the annual number of fine days in which the sun 
shines without clouds is 214 ; the number of days in which 
the sun shines with clouds is 45 ; and the number of days 
in which the sun is not seen, the sky being completely 
obscured, without rain, is 24. To which we may add — 
days of rain, 80, many in part sunshiny. 

' The rainy days principally occur, as we have seen, between 
the months of October and May ; whilst in summer, there is 
sometimes not a drop of rain for months together. The 
winds can then blow from the south without their vapour 
being condensed into clouds and rain on the mountain 
summits which skirt the coast. The mountains are them- 
selves heated with the powerful rays of the summer sun, and 
the warm sea-borne winds meet currents still warmer than 
themselves. Even in winter a very gentle south wind from 
the sea may not bring cloud and rain. All its super- 
abundant moisture may be at once taken up, owing to 
the great dryness of the colder mountain atmosphere. 

Notwithstanding the mildness and sunny brightness of 
the weather, yet it is still decidedly winter at Mentone 
irom December to April. 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND METEOROLOGY. 7? 

- The nights are chilly during four months — from December 
to April — the thermometer generally falling to between 46° 
and 54°, with south winds, and with north winds to between 
40° and 45°, sometimes below 40°. In the daytime it is 
generally cool in the shade, and out of the shade when the 
sum is obscured by clouds. The ordinary " shade maximum" 
varies from 50° to 56° when the sun shines, and is lower 
still when it does not. The temperature always falls as soon 
as the sun disappears or sets, and often at once reaches the 
minimum of the twenty- four hours, owing, no doubt, to a 
cool down draught from the mountains. The heat is 
evidently produced by the direct influence of the sun. In 
a south room, whenever the sun is on the room, the window 
can be left wide open, and, without a fire, the thermometer 
will generally remain at about 64° ; but when the sun dis- 
appears the window has to be partly shut, and chilly persons 
require a wood fire. In midday the north rooms on the 
same floor are, even when the sun shines, four, six, or eight 
degrees colder than the south. Even before sunset, as soon 
as the sun disappears behind the mountains, there is a 
difference of six or eight degrees in the temperature of the 
atmosphere if northerly winds prevail. When the sun is 
permanently obscured by clouds the air often feels chilly, 
even with a south wind, and the complaints against the 
weather are loud and numerous. 

These complaints seem partly to have their origin in the 
extreme depression which appears to attack the entire com- 
munity, but more especially the invalids, when it is thus 
cloudy and wet, and when the sun is obscured. I have 
both observed this depression and painfully experienced it 
myself. In such weather most of us are indescribably 
wretched and miserable. Then, indeed, we feel vividly 
that we are poor invalids, exiles from home, stranded on 
the shores of the stream of life. But with the return of 
bright sunshiny weather, all these gloomy thoughts dis- 
appear. Once more we are gay and cheerful, inclined, 
indeed, to look on our ill-health as in some respects a 
positive advantage. Is it not the cause of our being able 
to avoid the dreary winter of our northern cloud-girt 
island ? Is it not to our ill-health that we owe the 



80 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

temporary freedom from the cares and duties of real life — 
the real schoolboy's holiday we enjoy ? 

It is a general source of remark, and often of complaint, 
that the air feels cooler than the thermometer would lead 
one to suppose the temperature to be, and this remark is 
not without foundation. Owing to the general dryness of 
the air, evaporation takes place very rapidly from the skin, 
absorbs heat, and produces a sensation of coldness. It is 
this same feeling that is experienced when the face or 
hands are bathed with eau-de-Cologne. The rapid evapo- 
ration of the spirit causes rapid abstraction of caloric, and 
thus occasions the sensation of cold. It is by the same 
physical law that the water is cooled which is contained in 
the porous jars, so much used in Spain and in warm 
climates in general. The moisture that exudes on the 
external surface is evaporated by the atmosphere, abstracts 
heat, and cools the water inside. In a dry atmosphere like 
that of the Riviera, human beings are mere " porous jars," 
and are cooled down, like the water the latter contain, by 
rapid evaporation. This fact, and its physical interpretation, 
account for the absolute necessity of very warm clothing, 
and for the appearance of the rheumatic pains which often 
follow the neglect of this precaution. 

The Mentone vegetation shows the influence of a power- 
ful sun warming a chilly atmosphere. Deciduous trees lose 
their leaves in December, as soon as the nights become 
cold, and do not regain them until April, when they are 
becoming warmer. The green, forest-like appearance of 
the hills and valleys, in midwinter, is owing entirely to the 
evergreen Olive, Orange, Lemon, and Pine-trees. The few 
deciduous trees are mere dry sticks until April. On the 
other hand, in sheltered situations exposed to the south, 
the heat of the sun during the day so warms the soil, that 
it has not time to cool at night. These situations thus 
become regular forcing-beds, producing, as I have stated, 
Violets in December, Anemones in January, and all our 
spring flowers early in February. In shady situations, 
where the sun does not penetrate, the ground-vegetation 
remains torpid, like the deciduous trees, till March. As, 
however, the sun-exposed localities are very numerous on 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND METEOROLOGY. 81 

the sheltered lower hills, and in protected valleys, away 
from the sea, the ground-vegetation is all the winter very 
luxuriant and abundant, offering great resources to the 
botanist and florist. Indeed in the warmer valleys the 
only winter is on the thoroughly rainy days. 

From what precedes, it will be perceived that the cha- 
racteristics of the climate of Mentone and of the Riviera, 
as evidenced during the fifteen winters I have spent there, 
are: absence of frost, prevalence of northerly winds, mode- 
rate dryness of the atmosphere, complete absence of fog, 
paucity of rainy days, clearness and blueness of sky, general 
heat and brilliancy of sun, a cool night temperature, a 
bracing coolness of the atmosphere, and a mean difference 
of 12° 8' Fahr. only between the day maximum and the 
night minimum. Even when the sun is obscured and 
rain falls, as the wind is then generallv from the south- 
west or the south-east, it is not cold, at any period of 
the winter. On the rare occasions, however, when it 
rains, with the wind from a northern quarter, there may 
be as miserable and chilly a state of things as in a drizzling 
November day in England. As rain only falls on a 
small number of days in winter, and then often not during 
the whole day, and as the other days are all but uniformly 
bright, clear, and sunny, for five days out of six, 
exercise in the open air can be prudently taken, from 
nine until three, four, or five, according to the season, with 
both pleasure and benefit. 

Notwithstanding the complete protection from the north, 
north-east, and north-west, the wind is often rather high 
near the shore. Even when really in the northern quarters 
it may seem to come from south-east or south-west, 
the open region, no doubt owing to the land-locked cha- 
racter of the district. Still, however strong the northern 
winds may be, the mountain valleys and the more internal 
hills are quite sheltered and protected. The smaller or 
eastern bay is decidedly better protected from the north 
winds, and is several degrees warmer than the western, 
owing to a spur from the Berceau mountain rising imme- 
diately behind the houses which line the shore. There 
certainly is no atmospheric stagnation at Mentone, as some 

G 



82 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

writers have very erroneously asserted. On the contrary, 
there is constant atmospheric motion between sea, land, and 
mountain. 

According to Admiral Smyth, in his very interesting 
work on "The Mediterranean""* (p. 233), the most pre- 
valent winds in that sea are those that blow from west 
round northwards to north-east, during two-thirds of the 
year, from May to February. During the months of Feb- 
ruary, March, and April, on the contrary, the south-east 
and south-west winds would prevail. My experience of the 
Mentonian shore during winter only partially agrees with 
this statement. In October and the early part of No- 
vember, after the autumnal equinox, south-west winds 
have appeared to me to prevail, bringing the heavy 
autumnal rains. Then the north winds gain the upper 
hand, and usually, but with occasional temporary excep- 
tions, reign until the spring months, March and April. At 
this epoch, the south-westerly and easterly winds again 
seem to have the ascendancy, giving rise to the gales and 
rains of March. The prevalence of northerly winds during 
the winter months, in most years, is the real key to the 
climate, as I have already stated. During the four cold 
winter months, November, December, January, and Feb- 
ruary, the high mountain barrier protects the amphitheatre 
from these northerly winds. During the early spring, in 
March and April, the prevalent southerly winds, to which 
it is quite open and exposed, bring genial warmth and 
fostering showers. 

The southerly winds, to which Mentone is fully open, 
whether they bring rain or not, are generally mild, if not 
warm. The south-east, or scirocco, the plague of southern 
Italy, all but loses its languor-creating, pernicious cha- 
racter, in autumn and spring, by the time it strikes the 
head of the Gulf of Genoa. Originating in the African 
deserts, it leaves the African shores as a hot, dry, scorching 
wind, imbibing abundant moisture as it crosses the Medi- 
terranean. "Wherever it reaches the shores of southern 



* "The Mediterranean: a Memoir, Physical, Historical, and 
Nautical. 55 By Rear- Admiral W. II. Smyth. Parker. 1854. 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND METEOROLOGY. 83 

Italy it is impressed with this double character, heat and 
moisture, and is much dreaded. When it arrives at 
Mentone, however, it has passed over the Apennines and 
the high granitic range of Corsica, some of the summits 
of which are clothed with eternal snow. It has thus 
become much cooler than in the south or centre of Italy. 
Indeed, in the months of February and March, the scirocco 
is so cooled by the great mass of snow on the Corsican 
mountains that it may reach Mentone, as already stated, 
as a cold wind, bringing cold rain, and sometimes snow 
into the amphitheatre. The only occasions on which I 
have known snow fall inside the amphitheatre, down to 
the sea level, have been under its influence. 

There is geological evidence that in times past the desert 
of Sahara was covered with water, which was probably one 
of the reasons why the Alpine glaciers descended into the 
plains of Lombardy, for then this south-east wind or scirocco 
would not present its present characteristics. When this 
inland sea dried up, and the present desert of Sahara was 
formed, the hot scirocco wind must have appeared, and have 
much contributed to the melting of the glaciers of North 
Italy. M. Lesseps, the hero of the Isthmus of Suez canal, 
has recently proposed to again turn the desert, or part of it, 
into a sea, by making a short canal from the Gulf of Cabes 
or little Syrtis, below Tunis. It is certain that south of the 
Atlas mountains a large extent of the desert is below the 
level of the Mediterranean, and that the plan is feasible, but 
the results might be most disastrous to the climate of Europe. 

On reading Admiral Smyth's work I have been struck 
with the remarkable agreement between my observations 
on the winds, and on their influence over weather and 
climate in the western Mediterranean, and the results of 
the observations of the ancient Greeks, made at Athens 
more than two thousand years ago. There is still extant 
at Athens a kind of observatory tower, erected by the 
astronomical architect Andronicus Cyrrhesthes, which has 
survived the wear and tear, the storms and catastrophes of 
twenty centuries, for it was probably built about one 
hundred and fifty years B.C. This tower is octangular in 
form, and gives the eight points of the compass then re- 

'% G 



84 THE MVIERA AND MENTONE. 

cognised, with the reputed quality of the winds in the 
meridian of Attica, by symbolic statues. I saw it a few 
years ago just as he describes it. 

In addition to the polar, equatorial, and local winds, very 
often, when it is fine, and when the sun shines with force 
on the Mentonian amphitheatre, there is a very decided 
sea-breeze during the middle of the day, as in tropical 
countries. The air, becoming heated and rarefied in the 
mountain basin, rises, and cooler air from the sea rushes 
in to supply its place. But for a decided sea-breeze thus 
to rise in winter, there must be a strong wind blowing 
from some of the northern quarters. When this is the 
case, in the early part of the day, until about eleven o'clock, 
the north wind only reaching the sea at some distance 
from the beach, owing to the mountain protection, leaves 
the waters inshore calm or nearly so. The sea air that 
later rushes in to supply the place of the rarefied land air, 
pushing angry billows before it, is merely the north wind, 
which having passed overhead and gone out to sea, is pulled 
back by the midday heat. When the air is perfectly calm 
in the upper and lower atmospheric regions, the calm of the 
early morning continues all day, because there is then no 
strong wind and angry sea to be drawn inland by the 
effects of land heat. The latter in winter is not sufficiently 
great to create this little monsoon when the atmosphere is 
in a state of complete repose. It was long before the above 
facts became clear to me, before I understood why, on two 
days apparently identical as regards sunshine, the morning 
calm on one occasion continues all day, and on another 
gives place, about eleven o'clock, to a strong sea-breeze and 
to a rough sea. 

In winter, the sea-breeze reigns from about eleven to 
three. In summer it begins much earlier — before eight. 
Thus, the seashore of Mentone is decidedly windy, even in 
fine summer weather, and this sea-breeze is often cold in 
winter, for it is the north wind, which has passed over- 
head, drawn back. This is a fact that invalids ought to 
remember. They should bear in mind that the gentle 
breeze that fans them when sitting on the sea-beach on a 
line sunny day, may be merely a cruel, treacherous north 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND METEOROLOGY. 85 

wind palled back by the heat, and to be carefully avoided. 
This return sea-breeze can, moreover, be completely avoided 
by leaving the shore and gaining the numerous valleys. 
We must recollect, at the same time, that wind is a health- 
giving agent, a purifier of the earth, that a place where 
there is no wind would soon become a mere carbon-loaded 
well, perfectly pestilential, especially in a southern climate. 
It is only detrimental to confirmed invalids, and they can 
easily avoid it at Mentone, without remaining indoors, 
unless on the rare occasions when a hurricane is blowing. 

The sea-breeze, which daily pours into the Mentonian 
amphitheatre when the dry north winds blow, having im- 
bibed moisture from its contact with the sea, modifies, 
diminishes the extreme dryness of these northerly winds, 
an important fact for the invalid population. Thus, unless 
when there is a positive hurricane from the north, the dry- 
ness is never extreme. The wet-bulb thermometer shows 
this influence. On these days the dryness generally di- 
minishes a couple of degrees by midday, showing that the 
atmosphere has become so much the moister. 

At night there is a land-breeze, which descends from 
the mountains to the shore and sea. Between the sub- 
siding of the night land-breeze and the rising of the day 
sea-breeze, and again between the subsiding of the day- 
breeze and the rising of . the night land-breeze — in fine, 
bright sunshiny weather — there is a period of repose, a 
lull, during which the air is calm. The present Italian 
mariners call this period of calm bonaccia, as being unac- 
companied by danger ; their more sturdy Homan prede- 
cessors designated it malaccia, from its being a cause of 
disagreeable detention. This period lasts, in winter, from 
eight to eleven a.m., and from three to six or seven, p.m., 
according to the length of the day and the amount of sun- 
shine. The morning lull is the time for confirmed invalids 
to walk on the shore. Those who are well — the strong, the 
healthy — can receive no harm whatever from a good blow, 
if well clothed, and not heated by violent exercise. 

The land-breeze from the mountains, at night, is usually 
very gentle, especially in winter. Occasionally, however, 
owing to sudden change of temperature between land and 



86 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

sea, the land winds descend suddenly and with great 
impetuosity, as in all parts of the Mediterranean skirted 
with high mountains. Thence the general use of " lateen 
or triangular sails, attached to yards that can instantly be 
let down by the run, for the xebecs, feluccas, and other 
craft which coast the shores within their influence." 

It is only at night that the land-breeze descends from 
the high mountain ranges. It is quite perceptible, even 
in winter, as soon as the sun has set, especially in the 
western bay. The greater warmth of the eastern bay at 
Mentone is evidently due to the protection of the secondary 
range of hills, which, rising immediately from the sea, cuts 
off, as it were, this cold air current. In the western bay 
the lower valley of Gorbio is similarly protected by the 
sandstone hill of St a . Lucia. Consequently the temperature 
of this valley is also exceptionally warm, as evidenced by 
its early and luxuriant vegetation. Wherever there is a 
gully, ravine, or torrent bed, the temperature is generally 
two or three degrees lower in it at night than elsewhere in 
either bay, owing to their forming funnels down which the 
colder mountain currents descend to the sea. 

In summer the cold mountain currents at night power- 
fully contribute to diminish heat, and, combined with the 
day sea-breeze, produce a much cooler and more equable 
temperature than is found inland in the same latitudes. 

'Thus the temperature is very seldom above 80° Fah. at 
any time in the summer, whereas both in Paris and in 
London a higher temperature is reached every summer. 
On the other hand, during several months, June, July, 
August, and September, there is but one or two degrees 
difference between the day maximum and the night mini- 
mum, which constitutes the real drawback to the summer 
climate, especially for invalids. 

The difficulty of recognising from which direction the 
wind blows is very great at Mentone when there is a calm 
in the lower atmosphere, or when northern currents from 
the north-east or north-west are diverted to the south-east 
or south-west by the mountains which form the bay. When 
this is the case, and also under the influence of the sea 
breeze, all the weathercocks will point to the south, when, 






PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND METEOROLOGY. $7 

in reality, the weather and climate-influencing wind comes 
from the north. All my early observations were invali- 
dated by the non-recognition of these facts, and I think 
most of those that have been published have been invali- 
dated by the same cause. Very often it is only by consult- 
ing the wet and dry bulb thermometers that doubts can be 
solved as to the real direction of the wind. They are of 
great assistance, for north winds are always dry, and south 
winds moist. 

The apparent twisting and turning of a north-east wind 
to the south-east as it enters the bay, of a north-west to the 
south-west, and the frequent sea-breeze, give to the wind 
the appearance of nearly always coming from the south. 
This error, a most palpable one, has, I believe, been mado 
by most observers. There are, in reality, many eddies and 
local currents in the Mentonian amphitheatre which are 
insignificant as regards weather and climate. It is the 
upper currents alone that rule the weather and the climate, 
and they can only be ascertained by a careful examination 
and study of the position and progress of the clouds in 
connexion with the highest mountain summits. The local 
weathercocks are all but useless for this purpose. 

A remarkable fact which renders it all the more difficult 
to decide which way the wind blows is, that constantly two 
winds are observed blowing at the same time from different 
quarters of the- horizon, from the north and from the south, 
and that even in fine weather. Indeed, the Genoese Riviera 
is a regular battlefield, where the north and the south winds 
constantly meet in mortal combat, the weather depending 
on which has the victory. 

The climate of the Mentcne amphitheatre and of the 
Riviera in general is a favourable specimen of what botan- 
ists call the warmer temperate zone". Plants live nearly 
everywhere which frost kills, many annuals in a colder region 
become perennials, and many forms of vegetation new to 
the more northern flora make their appearance. It is the 
Mediterranean climate, but that of the more favoured 
Mediterranean regions. In Italy, for instance, the most 
protected southern regions must be reached to find the same 
immunity from frost. On the southern shores of the Medi- 



88 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

terranean, in Algeria, and at Tunis, there is the same 
immunity from frost, but, owing to the presence of the 
Atlas mountains, cool rains predominate throughout the 
winter, with the north winds, which usually rule at that 
time of the year. Mentone also is warmer, more pro- 
tected from northern winds than its neighbour Nice, more 
so than Cannes, although the general features of the cli- 
mate are the same, for all three are only a short distance 
apart. It is the question of fruit walls in orchards in the 
same district, one higher and giving more protection than 
the others, but all turned towards the south. At Nice there 
are sheltered situations, such as the Cimiez, the Carabacel, 
and Villefranche, in which the protection is greater than 
in the town itself, and which thus assimilate to Mentone, 
without, however, equalling it. 

It is well to recollect that in such a climate, in the 
warmer temperate zone, winter is by no means avoided. 
The descriptions of the winter climate of Nice, Cannes, 
Hyeres, and of Italy in general, contained in most books of 
travel, works on climate, and guide-books, are mere poetical 
delusions. The perpetual spring, the eternal summer, the 
warm southern balmy atmosphere, described to the reader 
in such glowing terms, only exist in the imagination of the 
writers. Although there is so much sunshine, so much fine 
weather, such immunity from fog and drizzling rain, we 
are -still on the continent of Europe, with ice and snow 
behind us, for more than two thousand miles, up to the north 
pole. It is still winter ; wind, rain, a chilly atmosphere, 
and occasional cold weather, with snow on the mountains 
and flakes of ice in exposed situations, have to be encoun- 
tered. It is as well, therefore, that the invalid traveller 
should be prepared to encounter them, otherwise, antici- 
pating an Eldorado^ balmy zephyrs, perpetual sunshine, 
and an ever-smiling nature, he is disappointed. I believe 
that continuous warm weather in winter, and the complete 
absence of cold days or nights, are not to be met with in 
the temperate zones, only in tropical regions; and these 
regions present many drawbacks both to health and comfort. 
If they are considered requisite, however, the tropics, or at 
least Madeira, should be selected, not the Mediterranean ; 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND METEOROLOGY. 89 

or better still, the invalid longing for summer, for constant 
fine warm weather, should at once go to the Antipodes., to 
Australia, or to the Cape. 

The existence of Orange and Lemon-trees, of Geraniums, 
Heliotropes, Verbenas, and Roses, flowering throughout 
the winter, does not necessarily imply the absence of cold 
weather, merely the absence of absolute frost. This is 
well known to all who are familiar with the management 
of conservatories and of winter flower-gardens in England. 
Once the flowers, gathered from every clime, which make 
an English conservatory such a scene of glory in winter, 
are fully in blossom, and have been brought in from the 
forcing-houses, all gardeners know that a rather low tem- 
perature is beneficial, and prolongs the bloom and beauty 
of their floral favourites. The Chinese Primulas, the 
Heaths, the Epacrises, the Camellias, the Azaleas, the 
Correas, the Chorozemas, the bulbous plants, continue to 
expand and thrive at a night temperature of from 38° to 
44°. It is the frost they fear. 

A few miles from Mentone, at Bordighera, groves of 
Palm-trees grow in great luxuriance, and are looked upon 
by all travellers as evidences of an all but tropical climate, 
as are those that grow on the " Place" at Hyeres, and in 
the gardens at Nice. Such, however, is not the ease. Palms 
will grow as out-door trees in any region of the Riviera, 
and would be generally cultivated, were it not that their 
cultivation is unprofitable everywhere, except at Bordighera, 
which has the monopoly of supplying Rome with palms on 
Palm Sunday. On the Riviera they either do not produce 
fruit, or their fruit is not fit to eat ; to ripen the fruit of the 
date Palm the sultry summer heat of the south-east coast of 
Spain, of Egypt, or of the desert of Sahara is required. Even 
in Egypt the Arabs place the dates in jars, which they bury 
in the sand to complete the process of ripening. This tree 
may be compared, when growing in southern Europe, to 
the Chestnut-tree in the north of England. As a tree the 
latter grows there in great luxuriance, but its fruit is all 
but worthless. The centre and the south of Europe alone 
have sufficient summer warmth to allow the fruit to reach 
perfection. The presence of magnificent Chestnut-trees in 



90 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

our climate does not, therefore, indicate that it is a warm 
one. I have, indeed, seen Chestnut-trees in the High- 
lands of Scotland, as, for instance, at Arrochar, on Loch 
Long, growing with the greatest luxuriance. 

The proximity of the sea exercises a considerable in- 
fluence over the climate of Mentone, as the temperature 
of the Mediterranean is never very low. When the 
weather is cold, and especially when the sun is obscured, 
the sea is a reservoir of heat, and perceptibly warms the 
air ; for it is then warmer on the sea-level than on the 
hills. When, on the contrary, as is usually the case, the 
sun shines, the evaporation which constantly takes place 
cools the air at the sea-level, and it becomes perceptibly 
warmer as the hills are ascended. There are sheltered 
sunny nooks in the vicinity of Castellare, a mountain 
village 1200 feet above the sea-level, where, owing, no 
doubt, to the concentration and reverberation of the sun's 
rays, the climate is exceptionally mild, and where violets 
and anemones appear at least ten days before they are 
found at much lower elevations, or even in sheltered spots 
at the sea-level. 

The summer climate of Mentone is cool compared to 
that of southern France and of continental Italy, owing, as 
we have seen, to the sea-breeze which sets in regularly in 
the morning, and blows the greater part of the day, and to 
the land-breeze which descends at night from the higher 
mountains. But then, on the other hand, it remains, 
night and day, at a high temperature for several months. 
In the tropics, on the seacoast, there is also this sea-breeze 
daily, which makes the warm weather bearable, even agree- 
able to some; but it does not prevent the high temperature 
producing its usual physiological effects on the human 
frame. Warmth, when the air is stagnant and loaded with 
moisture, is very difficult to endure, because the insensible 
perspiration collects on the skin, and is not carried off. 
This renders warm weather so unpleasant in England, 
where the air is generally more or less saturated with 
moisture. When, on the contrary, there is a light breeze 
fanning the body, and the air is dry, as on the Mentone 
coast, the perspiration is constantly carried away, and the 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND METEOROLOGY. 91 

body cooled by its vaporization. I have been for several 
days on the outskirts of the desert of Sahara, in Algeria, 
with the thermometer at 96°, without feeling any distress, 
although streaming with perspiration. It was merely be- 
cause the scirocco was blowing on me from the desert and 
evaporating the moisture from the skin. Whilst once, on a 
Danube steamer, in the same temperature, the heat was all 
but unbearable unless I placed myself on the prow of the 
vessel and encountered the draft created by its movement. 
The trying feature of the summer climate in the Riviera is un- 
doubtedly the high night temperature, which has to be borne 
constantly, during the summer, from May until October. 

Thus Sincapore, under the equator, has a temperature of 
about 84° all the year through, variation being limited to 
two or three degrees. This heat is not extreme ; it is 
much less than that of India in summer, but its continu- 
ance renders Sincapore anything but a healthy residence. 
It suffices to develop the diseases of hot climates. 

Such being the case, — although persons in health may 
find it an agreeable residence, — I do not advise invalids to 
remain at Mentone during the summer season. If they 
do not wish to return to England, the best summer climate 
in Europe for health, they had better seek a refuge from 
the heat in some of the high mountain sanitaria to which 
the medical men of Nice, Geneva, and Switzerland send 
their patients. I may mention, as easily accessible, St. 
Dalmas, on the Maritime Alps, about six hours' distance 
from Mentone ; the Grand Chartreuse, near Coni, in Pied- 
mont; further away, the Grand Courmayeur, a well- 
sheltered and picturesque mountain valley, with sulphur 
springs, near Aosta, on the south side of the Mount St. 
Bernard, and Monte Generoso, above lakes Maggiore 
and Lugano. I have sought for such a refuge in Corsica, 
which the weekly steamers from Nice now render very 
accessible, but hitherto without any success. The cool 
summer climate exists there, but without the accommoda- 
tion which would make it useful or available, as will be 
explained hereafter. 

Many of the mountains that surround the Mentonian 
amphitheatre are above 4000 feet high, the Aiguille and 



92 THE TIIYIEBA AND MENTONE. 

Gran Mondo for instance, and present lovely plateaux 
and Pine forests, and would offer a charming summer 
retreat, were Pension Hotels built upon them. My friend, 
Dr. Farina, of Mentone, is now engaged in an attempt to 
establish such a mountain station above Dolce Aqua in the 
valley of the Nervia, only a few hours'' distant. It will 
be a great boon when the winter invalids have only to 
ascend the mountains that have protected them from the 
north winds in winter to find shelter from the summer 
heat of the south. Now these cool mountain heights are 
left to the shepherds. 

In Switzerland there are many retreats of this kind, at 
different grades of elevation. Amongst the pleasantest 
and best, according to the late Dr. Bezancanet, of Aigle, 
are the baths of Morgins, in the Valais, above 4000 feet 
high, a charming mountain valley, well known for its 
strong chalybeate spring. I have not myself been there, 
but have been told that it is a delightful retreat from the 
heat of a continental summer, and that the air is bracing, 
without being chilly. The valley is wide, and the sky 
generally bright and clear. A respectable hotel has been 
built, which affords travellers and invalids the protection 
and comforts they require. I may also mention Sepey or 
Ormonds, about seven leagues from Vevay, 3300 feet high; 
and La Rossiniere, a pretty mountain village, with a good 
hotel. Aigle, Bex, and Clarens can be recommended for 
early summer. The three latter are on the level of the 
Lake of Geneva, itself 1200 feet above the sea-level, so 
that the elevation is still considerable. In early summer 
and in the autumn they are better calculated for the 
invalid than the higher elevations, which are only suited 
for invalids during the great summer heats — from the 
middle of July to the end of August and the middle of 
September. At all these places there are comfortable 
hotels at reasonable rates. 

In cases of phthisis, more especially, extreme heat should 
be avoided during the summer, as calculated to accelerate 
the progress of the disease. The patient should, indeed, be 
kept in a temperature below 70° Fall. This, in Continental 
Europe, can only be done by leaving the plains for the 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND METEOROLOGY. 93 

mountains, and attaining thereon a considerable elevation 
— at least four thousand feet. 

There is, however, some little risk to be encountered by 
those who thus fly to the mountains to escape the heat of 
the plains. If the summer is dry and fine, all is well ; the 
mountain air is found pure and bracing, the scenery is 
enchanting, and health often improves rapidly. But if 
wet weather sets in, the mountain retreats are at once 
enveloped in cloud or fog, and may remain so for weeks, to 
the great detriment of the consumptive patient. Again, 
the latter is surrounded by healthy, enthusiastic tourists, 
eager to explore the majestic beauties of the Alpine 
scenery, which they have come to see and examine. Their 
example is contagious, and it is very difficult for the most 
reasonable not to be led away, and not to be induced to exert 
themselves more than is desirable or prudent. 

I have known many break down from one or both of 
these causes, and under the influence of accidental disease, 
to lose completely in a few weeks all the benefit gained by 
a winter's residence on the Riviera. It is the recollection 
of such cases that makes me now always recommend the 
invalids whom I have carried safely through the winter to 
leave touring to better times, and to return if possible, for 
the summer, to cool, green, healthy England. If not 
possible or desirable, the summer may generally be spent 
more safely on the coast of the North Sea or of the British 
Channel, at any of the ports between Ostend and Trouville, 
than in Switzerland. 

One of the best summer stations in Switzerland is, un- 
questionably, St. Moritz, in the upper part of the Engadiu 
valley, on the river Inn, at an elevation of 5300 feet. St. 
Moritz has become a favourite summer resort of late years, 
and there is now plenty of hotel accommodation. The air 
is cool and pleasant throughout the summer. At this 
height, in case of rainy weather, the clouds often lie at a 
lower elevation, and the bad weather may be partially 
avoided. For thoroughly convalescent patients a residence 
in these Alpine regions in the months of July and August 
may be advantageous as well as agreeable. But it is not 
judicious or safe for those who are suffering from serious 



94 THE RIVIEKA AND MENTONE. 

chest disease to run the risk of possible cold, stormy weather, 
which at so great an elevation in the Swiss Alps sometimes 
occurs even in midsummer. 

It has been proposed lately to send consumptive patients 
to the Engadin for the winter. I only look upon this 
proposal as an evidence of the reaction taking place in the 
medical mind against the treatment of phthisis by tropical 
warmth and moisture. The same reaction lias occurred 
in the United States, where some physicians are sending 
patients to St. Paul, in Minnesota in winter, for the sake of a 
dry cold that freezes the rivers many feet deep ! Thus the 
human mind, like the pendulum, has always a tendency to 
go to extremes, although truth and prudence say : safety 
lies in the middle course, "In medio tutissimus ibis." This 
is the motto I have taken for my wOrk on the treatment of 
pulmonary consumption, in which these climate questions 
are fully discussed. 



CHAPTEE IV. 

FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE ON THE RIVIERA. 

" fortunatos nimium, sua si bona norint 
Agricolas !" . . . 

Virgil. — Georg ics. 

(i Si j'avais tm arpent de sol, mont, val, on plaine, 
Avec un filet d'eau, torrent, sonrce, ou ruisseau, 
J'y planterais un arbre, olivier, sanle, ou chene ; 
J'y batirais un toit, chaume, tuile, ou roseau." 

Josephin Solary. — Beves amhitieux. 

" Heureux qui doucement laisse couler sa vie, 
Sans chercher les honneurs, sans exciter l'envie, 
Dans les palais des grands, peu jaloux d'etre admis, 
Et parmi ses egaux sait choisir ses amis." 

Author Unknown. 

How many there are among the busy workers of social 
life chained to town duties, cares, and occupations, living 
in an atmosphere of bricks and mortar, who have a secret 
passion for flowers and horticulture ! Such was my case 
for many a year. This passion burst forth in early youth 
in an enthusiastic devotion to botany, which had to be 
surmounted and surrendered with a sigh for less fasci- 
nating but more important studies. If, later in life, in- 
validism has brought with it any solace, any compensation 
for a forced withdrawal from the active duties of an "ex- 
celsior" career, I have found it principally in "flowers," 
and in their cultivation. To a medical man the study of 
flowers and plants, of horticulture, has an exceptional and 
peculiar charm. It is merely continuing in the vegetable 
creation the professional study of life, of its functions and 
diseases. The field is a fresh one, but the main facts 
observed and studied are the same. Indeed, I may safely 



96 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

say that the analysis of the phenomena of life in the vege- 
table world has much aggrandized and deepened my know- 
ledge of the same phenomena in the human being. Many 
are the errors committed by learned physicians, which if 
committed by a gardener in his glasshouses would cost 
him his place in three months. His plant clients would 
fade and die, and he would be turned off as " incompetent." 
An old writer on gardening, whose name escapes me, 
quaintly remarks, that a flowering plant is like a very 
delicately organized human being. If treated with foster- 
ing care and attention it returns the labour and affection a 
hundredfold, and becomes a thing of beauty, producing 
lovely flowers to rejoice the heart of the friendly owner. 
But if neglected and abandoned, or treated with capricious 
tenderness, it fades, droops, and dies. 

I have long had a garden in heather-clad, fir-covered 
Surrey, where summer flowers smile on me when I return 
from the South, but it is only a few years ago that the 
thought came to establish a garden on the sunny shores of 
the Riviera. At first I was satisfied with the luxuriant 
wild vegetation of winter in this region, with the sunshine, 
and with the natural beauties of the district. As I became 
more and more familiarized with my winter home, I began 
to grieve that the precious sunshine, light, and heat, that 
surrounded me should be turned to so little horticultural 
account. Nature in these southern regions is left pretty 
much to herself as regards flowers, and it is surprising what 
floricultural wonders she does produce unassisted. Then 
the desire came to see what I myself could do with the 
gardening lore previously acquired in England. So I 
purchased a few terraces, some naked rocks, and an old 
ruined tower, on the mountain side, near Mentone, some 
three hundred feet above the sea, with a south-westerly 
aspect, and sheltered from all northerly winds. Here, 
hanging as it were on the flank of the mountain, I set 
to work, assisted by an intelligent peasant from the neigh- 
bouring village of Grimaldi, whom I have raised to the 
dignity of head-gardener, and in whom I have succeeded 
in instilling quite a passion for horticulture. We think we 
have done wonders in the course of a few years only, and 



FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 97 

as the results obtained throw a considerable light on the 
winter climate of this part of the world, I shall briefly 
narrate them. I am encouraged to do so also by the reflec- 
tion that should this work fall into the hands of others 
trying, like myself, to establish a winter garden in the 
south of Europe, my experience, slight as it yet is, may be 
of some avail. 

I would firstly repeat that I think I have found out 
why horticulture is so utterly neglected in the south of 
Europe, and in warm countries generally. Mere ordinary 
gardening — the cultivation of common garden flowers — is 
attended with considerable expense, owing to the necessity 
of summer and even winter irrigation, if any degree of 
excellence, or if certain results, are to be obtained. In 
climates where, as on the Riviera, it does not rain from 
April until October, where the rain falls tropically, in ca- 
taracts, at the autumnal and vernal equinoxes, and where 
often in midwinter there are droughts of six weeks' dura- 
tion under an ardent burning sun, frequent watering be- 
comes indispensable for most garden plants. Thus addi- 
tional labour is required, and a heavy expense entailed, 
in addition to that of the ordinary work of the garden. 

On the other hand, southerners of the higher and middle 
classes are thrifty and economical in the extreme, have few 
outlets for activity, and are at the same time indolent. 
Those who have property usually live on one-fifth of their 
income, and put by the rest. They thus provide for their 
children, and yet can remain quiescent, taking life easily, 
and spending their days in an agreeable state of "dolce far 
niente.^ By such persons horticultural expenses are con- 
sidered an extravagance, and those who indulge in them 
are thought to be all but demented. Should misfortune 
overtake them, and their financial circumstances become 
embarrassed, it is all attributed to the gardening. They 
understand paying labour for planting and irrigating 
Orange-trees, Cabbages, Peas, or Wheat, because there is a 
return — a profit on the transaction ; but to spend good 
money on Roses and Jasmines, unless to make perfumes for 
sale, passes their comprehension. Thus my iNientone neigh- 
bours long thought, and perhaps still think, that I am 

H 



98 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

preparing for the erection of a large house, and nearly all 
the masons in the country have applied to me for my 
patronage. They cannot understand any one making a 
mere flower garden for pleasure on the mountain side, a 
mile or two from the town, so I am asked building prices 
for the all but worthless rocks around me, and find it diffi- 
cult to extend my horticultural domain as I should wish. 

The soil of the garden is the usual lime soil of the 
country, formed by the break up of the oolitic limestone 
rocks which form the skeleton of the district. Rich in the 
mineral elements required for vegetation, it is poor in humus, 
in the organic constituents, so that it requires manure 
to bring out its powers, which, with the addition of the 
latter, are considerable. The climate of Mentone is, as we 
have seen, a very peculiar one, and, although the preceding 
chapter contains a full account of its meteorological cha- 
racter, it may be as well to briefly recall the chief " horti- 
cultural^ features. 

From the beginning of April until the end of September, 
or the beginning of October, there is no rain at all, except 
an occasional thunder storm. When these storms occur, 
either in winter or summer, nothing can be grander, more 
sublime, than the scene as witnessed from my garden, or 
from any mountain height. They are quite tropical; the 
flashes of lightning illuminate the heavens, revealing every 
one of the mountain recesses, partly covered with dark 
clouds, and the thunder peals and reverberates from crag 
to crag, as if the skies were about to fall; — the sky is clear, 
the sun ardent, the light intense, the heat varies from 74° 
to 84°, and is nearly the same by day and by night. Be- 
tween September and April about twenty -five inches of 
rain fall, the greater part about the autumnal and vernal 
equinoxes. From the middle of December to the middle of 
February the night minimum is about 44° Fah., the day 
minimum about 54°, in the shade. Two or three times in 
the winter the thermometer goes down for a night or two 
to 38°, 36°> 34°, or even to 30° in exposed situations, at the 
mouth of ravines and torrents, on the sea shore, but it never 
freezes in less exposed localities. These temperatures of 
mid-winter and mid-summer are reached by a gradual fall 



FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 99 

of the thermometer in autumn as the days shorten, and by 
a gradual rise in spring as they increase in length. The 
entire region is protected by an amphitheatre or semicircle 
of mountains, some 4000 feet high, from north, north-west, 
and north-east winds. Thus the inhabitants, animal and 
vegetable, are like plates in a plate-warmer before a kitchen 
fire — videlicet, the sun ; or Jike fruit trees on a south wall. 
Such are the data on which the vegetation of the district 
is based; long droughts with a high temperature in summer, 
all but tropical rains from the south-west or south-east in 
autumn and spring, dry sunny weather in winter, with, for 
two months, a night minimum temperature of about 44°) 
and no frosts. 

Such climatic conditions are peculiarly suited, as already 
stated, to the Olive, the Lemon, and the Orange tree, which 
cover the hill sides, and constitute all but the sole agri- 
cultural produce. In the gardens, such as they are, mostly, 
if not entirely planted as adjuncts to the villas built for 
strangers, many flowers and plants will thrive and blossom, 
more or less, all winter, with scarcely any care. Thus the 
following grow luxuriantly, and most can stand the summer 
drought without irrigation : — Aloe, Cactacese in general, 
Mesembryanthemum, Iris, Maritime Squill, Cineraria 
maritima, Alyssum, Rosemary, Thyme, Wallflowers, Stocks, 
Carnations, Marguerite, Geranium, Pelargonium, Marigold, 
Arabis, Silene pendula, Primula (common and Chinese), 
Violets, Pansies, .Nemophilaj Hepatica, Roses, Chrysanthe- 
mum, Salvias of many kinds, Lavender, Mignonette, 
Fabriana imbricata, Justicia alba, Tobacco, red Valerian, 
D.iphne, Spirea, Achillea, Veronica, Erica Mediterranea, 
Nasturtium, Habrothamnus elegans, Lantana, Abutilon, 
Datura Stramonium, Linum trigynum, Sparmannia Afri- 
cana, Petunia, Cyclamen, Camellias, Azaleas, Calla iEthio- 
pica, Richardia /Ethiopica, Wigandia Caracasana, Big- 
nonias, Begonias, Cineraria, Verbena, Cytisus, Cistus, many 
species of Passion flowers, Chorozema, and most Australian 
winter flowering Mimos-ae and Acacise ; spring bulbs — 
Crocus, Snowdrop, Hyacinth, Ranunculus, Narcissus, Ixia, 
Sparaxis. As stated, most of these plants can rest in the 
warm dry summer without being injured therebv. They 

H 2 



100 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

are all, or nearly all, perennial in this climate. They start 
into life with the autumn rains, flowering more or less early 
in the winter or spring, and most of them continue in full 
bloom from Christmas to April, a month which, horti- 
culturally, corresponds to June in England. 

Most winters, in England, paragraphs appear in the 
newspapers, from residents in the more favoured regions of 
our island, giving lists of the flowers still blooming in their 
gardens. It may be remarked, however, that these lists 
never appear after Christmas, or the end of December at 
the latest. The fact is that in England November and 
December are generally rainy, and not very cold months. 
Although the weather is very often damp, foggy, cool, un- 
favourable to human health, it seldom actually freezes so 
as to destroy vegetable life. The hard frosts of winter 
generally commence about Christmas or the week after, 
and then the autumn flowers are all destroyed to the 
ground, and no such floricultural paeans are possible. 

On the Genoese Riviera, on the contrary, after Christ- 
mas, if there has been sufficient rain, vegetation takes a 
start and rapidly gains ground, under the influence, not 
so much of a high night temperature (for we feel the 
January cold of continental Europe), but of the increasing 
length of the day, and of the ardent light and sunshine of 
an unclouded sky. 

The increased length of the day is scarcely sufficiently 
estimated in calculating the effect of temperature on vege- 
tation. I was much struck by its action in England in the 
year 1867. The days were more than usually cold and rainy 
until August, and the thermometer at night often went 
down nearly to the freezing point, and yet vegetation pro- 
gressed much as usual, each plant and flower coming to 
maturity at about the usual period. Evidently the increas- 
ing length of the clay, and the decreasing length of the 
night, were favouring and advancing vegetation. Thus on 
the north shore of the Mediterranean, although in December 
and January the days are generally days of warm ardent 
sunshine, they are so short, say nine or ten hours only, 
compared to the cold nights of fourteen or fifteen hours, 
that vegetation receives a great check. During these 



FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 101 

months the generality of flowering plants, although there 
is no frost and no cutting north winds, remain rather 
stationary, with some brilliant exceptions, only well formed 
buds opening out. 

Most of the above-mentioned plants have been long tried 
in the gardens of this part of the world, and have been 
found adapted to the soil and climate. They survive the 
summer heat and drought, and require merely common 
care, with artificial irrigation in autumn, if the autumn 
rains fail, as they occasionally do, in order to thrive and . 
flower in the open air. 

I commenced my gardening with the already well-known 
plants, and soon secured flowers for every winter month in 
sufficient abundance to deceive the eye and to make winter^ 
look like summer, both in the open garden and in the 
drawing-room. Now I am trying to cultivate some of the 
flowers belonging to the lower latitudes of the southern 
hemisphere of Australia and South America, which bloom 
naturally in winter, and which we cultivate in winter con- 
servatories, and have found that the winter heat is sufficient 
to flower many of them in* the open air. Thus I have 
planted in the open air, in an artificial prepared soil, Cho- 
rozemas and Kennedyas, Ixias and Sparaxis, which have 
passed through the winter in good health, and have flowered 
freely. I have repeatedly tried Epacrises and Cape Heaths, 
thinking that they would thrive in such a climate, which 
must be very similar to that of Australia and of the Cape 
of Good Hope. They get through the winter very well, 
but wither and die in summer, more, I really believe, from 
want of proper shading and watering than because the 
climate is unsuitable. This seems, however, to be the general 
experience of horticulturists in the south, for they are not 
found in the catalogues of the leading houses at Marseilles 
and Nice, because, I was told, they did not answer. Thus 
I had to send for the plants I have tried from England. 

On arriving at my Riviera garden the last week of October 
I am able to form a pretty correct idea of the manner in 
which the plants have stood the influence of the scorching 
heat of summer. Six months of blazing sunshine, which 
so heats the ground that if the peasants touch it barefoot 



102 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

the soles of their feet are burnt, without clouds or rain, 
barring a very exceptional shower of half-an-hour's dura- 
tion, are calculated to test the idiosyncrasy, the peculiar 
constitution, of any plants. The sheltered situation of the 
garden renders it peculiarly trying in summer, for it is in 
an angle of the limestone rock, south-east and west, and 
exposed to the full power of the sun all day long. My 
gardener rather quaintly tells me that in midsummer it is 
a furnace — i( C'est comme Venfer, monsieur." 

The plants that stand this sun heat and drought the best 
without any irrigation are the plants which are natives of 
the country, and which in it find their natural habitat, the 
conditions most favourable to their existence, such as 
Thyme, Rosemary, Cineraria maritima, sweet Alyssum, 
Lavatera, Iris, Scilla maritima, Juniper; also the Cactacesa 
in general, the Aloe, the Mesembryanthemum. They still, 
after all this roasting, look perfectly well and flourishing. 
All these plants have very long fibrous roots, which in- 
sinuate themselves into the crevices of the rocks in the 
search for moisture, and probably find it. In this respect, 
however, the Geranium and the Pelargonium appear to 
rival them. It is positively marvellous how well they bear 
the heat and drought; they thrive in the rockiest, warmest, 
driest part of the garden, and at the end of the summer, 
when even Aloes are drooping for want of moisture, they 
are all right; they have merely lost the greater part of their 
leaves, and are ready to start into full luxuriance as soon as 
they are watered. My gardener tried an experiment one 
summer. He had several large Aloes, well established, and 
planted in the warmest regions, in a foot or two of soil only, 
in corners of the rocks. He left them entirely without 
water all summer, as also Geraniums and Pelargoniums in 
the same locality. When autumn arrived the Aloes appeared 
to have nearly succumbed, for their thick leaves fell flaccid, 
and appeared partly withered, whilst the Geraniums and 
Pelargoniums, also left to themselves, were all right and 
flourishing, beating their companions by a long way. I 
must add that when the Aloes were watered they soon filled 
their leaves, pricked up their he< r :ds, and in a couple of 
weeks w T ere as healthy and as good looking as any in the 



IJliJlt 




* 



FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 103 

garden. No doubt this is the way they meet such trials 
and misfortunes in their own country. The Geranium 
flowers all winter sparsely, and profusely by March. The 
choicest Pelargoniums become large bushes, and flower 
sparsely in March, and profusely in April, in the open ground, 
in sunny, sheltered spots. From this may be drawn the 
moral, that in our own country they may be planted in the 
driest places and safely left to nature. 

The Aloe, Squill, and Iris may be put in the same 
category. They seem to care nothing at all for sun roast- 
ing and scorching. The large bulb of the Squill, the root 
of the Iris, may be pulled up and left in the blazing sun 
for weeks, and yet once planted and watered they will start 
and grow as if nothing had happened. Another feature 
connected with them is that they are what my gardener 
calls " des mange tout" that is, they take complete posses- 
sion of the soil around, and starve out everything else. If 
planted in little, or indeed in all but no soil, they thrive 
and do well, but attain no great size. If, however, they 
are planted in a border with a good d' j pth of the lime s>il 
of the country, they start into vigorous, determined growth, 
throw out strong roots in all directions, and smother all 
other vegetation. The Aloe especially seems determined to 
have the border all to himself. He sends out roots ten, 
fifteen, or more feet long, and at the end of these roots 
appear new plants, which if left to themselves would soou 
vie with their parent in hungry desperation. We have 
been obliged to take up the Aloes, the Irises, and the 
Squills, which we had placed as edgings, and put them on 
the top of a wide wall. Many of the Aloes we have put 
"in prison," as Antoine, the gardener says — that is, we 
have built small nooks and corner terraces for them against 
the rock, and have put them there by themselves, as in a 
penitentiary, where they can do no harm to anything else. 
i have left one large fellow in ten feet of soil to do as he 
likes, and it is a pleasure to see the vigorous manner in 
which he is growing. Within a few years he has become 
a giant in size. 

I have no doubt but that the Aloe might be cultivated 
profitably on the arid flanks of the mountains of the 



104 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

Riviera. Its leaves contain abundance of strong elastic 
fibres, which are easily extracted by a process of macerating 
and cleaning* in Mexico, its native country. They are 
imported to a considerable extent into England for brush- 
making. In Mexico they are also used for making ropes, 
nets, and mats. Another species is cultivated in Mexico 
for the sake of the juice of the leaves, with which an 
alcoholic drink called " pulque" is made. 

The endurance of heat shown by the Squill (Scilla 
maritima) is not surprising, for I found it in the driest 
parts of Algeria, and was told that it penetrated into the 
desert of Sahara, and was all but the last plant to give in. 

The same remark, but in a minor degree, may be made 
with regard to all the other plants that are natives of the 
country. The Cineraria maritima, planted in a border 
with plenty of soil, instead of being, as usual here, a small 
shrub growing out of the crevices of the rocks, becomes in 
a year or two a huge bush, as does the Lavatera, the very 
pretty mountain Mallow. We get good plants of Cineraria 
maritima by pulling them out of the crevices of the lime- 
stone rocks after heavy rains, which have reached the roots 
and loosened them. I dare not say where, according to 
Antoine, these roots go to, but they certainly go a long 
way, for they sometimes come out several feet in length. 
The Thyme and Rosemary also grow with wild luxuriance 
when planted as an edging to the borders, so as even to 
astonish the natives of the country. The Thyme, as a 
dwarf dense shrub, so covered with flower in early spring, 
that the leaves can scarcely be seen, is really beautiful. As 
I sit writing these lines in a Fern grotto or summer-house 
overlooking the sea and the Mentone amphitheatre, the 
Thyme bushes scent the air, and are covered with real wild 
" Ligurian bees." 

Different species of Mesembryanthemum also grow 
without care or irrigation in the warmest regions, hanging 
down the sunburnt walls, and on the sloping banks and rocks 
in huge verdant festoons, like rivers of verdure. . When 
planted so as to hang down perpendicular walls there comes 
a time when the mere weight of the mass of fleshy leaves 
strangles the plant and it dies. They require a good supply 



FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 105 

of earth for their roots. They begin to flower in March, 
and are in full flower by the beginning or middle of April. 
The scarlet variety is "more especially grand when covered 
with thousands of flowers, which make the wall, or rock, 
or bank, one glowing mass of scarlet. There is a flower 
at the axil of every fleshy leaf. 

All sorts of Cactaceas flourish in the same vigorous manner; 
they seem to be able to live, like the Aloe, on an infinitesimal 
supply of earth, and they appear only to want something to 
hold on by. I presume that a large proportion of the 
species of this family would survive here in the open air, 
as out of a collection of three hundred different species 
received from a well known Parisian grower, M. Pf'ersdorff, 
and planted out, more than two-thirds have survived. The 
Opuntia, or Prickly-pear, soon becomes a grotesque kind of 
tree on the Riviera, as in Corsica, Sardinia, Sicily, and 
Africa ; but it is not much cultivated on the Ligurian 
coast, where its fruit is not held in much esteem. 

Roses — Hybrids, Teas,, Bengals, Multiflores, Banksias, 
Centifolias — begin their spring flowering in March, and 
flower as freely in April and May as they do with us in 
June and July. If not allowed to exhaust themselves, kept 
at rest during the hot months, and watered from September, 
the Hybrids and Teas, especially the Gloire de Dijon 
and Sofrano, make a new growth, flower freely again in 
autumn, October, November, and December, and sparsely 
throughout the winter in warm sheltered situations. In 
such localities the Bengals and monthlies flower freely all 
winter, so that there are always Roses for bouquets even 
in midwinter, grown in the open air. 

Chrysanthemums I find in full glory on my arrival in 
October. They continue flowering until Christmas. There 
is one large white species, of a trailing habit, which is per- 
fectly beautiful : it covers the ground with lovely white 
flowers, and looks like a bridal bouquet. Very soon appears 
the Linum trigynum, which thrives and flowers like a 
Gooseberry bush. The soil and climate must be just what 
it requires, for it grows readily from cuttings without care, 
forms vigorous plants without manure, and bears myriads 
of handsome -yellow flowers, which continue until March, 



106 THE BIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

by which time every branch is covered with seed-pods. 
Gazanias are quite hardy, flowering in March. 

One of the winter-flowering shrubs which does the best, 
and flowers the most freely, is the Habrothamnus elegans. 
It grows as a bush some ten or fifteen feet high, is in 
flower by autumn, and bears myriads of flowers all winter. 
The Ageratum also flowers all winter freely, in the driest and 
rockiest parts of the garden. It grows to a good-sized bush, 
and is one mass of bloom. The same may be said of 
the composite CX teospermum and of the Datura Stra- 
monium. 

The Dasylirium thrives thoroughly in the open ground. 
Some plants received from Algiers a few years ago, and 
planted in rock work, have become large and beautiful 
specimens. 

The Heliotrope likes the lime soil and the sunny dry 
w r eather, for it grows and thrives like a blackberry bush, 
flowering profusely all through the winter in sheltered 
sunny situations. As it does not die down, but becomes a 
large ligneous shrub, and bears its sweet-scented ever- 
renewed flowers on every twig, it is an important feature 
of the winter garden at Mentone. Its healthy luxuriance 
in January and February is also a good test of the mildness 
of the locality, and of its immunity from frost. In the shade 
a'nd in exposed situations it does not die, but vegetates and 
flowers sparsely only during the winter. 

Lantanas also flower very freely during the autumn and 
winter, becoming large ligneous shrubs — nearly trees, indeed. 
They seem to require little or no care, and grow well in dry, 
rocky, sunburnt situations, bearing the summer heat and 
aridity uninjured. 

Bougainvillea spectabilis is generally considered, I be- 
lieve, to require rather a high temperature. I have had, 
however, several plants growing in the open air for some 
years, which are perfectly healthy, and are flowering freely.. 
I was led to plant them out owing to the iollowing 
circumstances :— In the garden of M. Thuret, the well- 
known botanist at Antibes, which is more exposed and 
colder than Mentone, I found on April 22, the south- 
eastern facade of the house completely covered with a 
magnificent Bougainvillea spectabilis in full flower. It 






FLO WEES AND HORTICULTURE. 107 

was truly a splendid sight, for the entire front of the house 
was one blaze with the flowers and rose-coloured bracts of 
this lovely climber. On my return to my country resi- 
dence at Weybridge I was surprised to find a Bougainvillea 
four years old in full flower for the first time, half filling a 
hothouse. In this house, which had always been heated 
until that very winter, the Bougainvillea, planted, in peat 
and leaf-mould in a, border formed by bricking up an 
angle, had thriven but never flowered. Owing to altera- 
tions it had been kept cool, the frost merely having been 
kept out of the house. My gardener, who had lived for 
many years in a leading horticultural establishment, told 
•me that he had always known the Bougainvillea treated 
by heat, and was surprised to see it flower so very freely 
under cool treatment. This result, however, coincided 
with what I hud witnessed at M. Thuret's at Antibes. I 
may add, that I have also since seen it flowering profusely 
inside and outside a small glass-house at Alphonse Karr's 
garden at Nice, — at the Jardin d'Essai Algiers, at Malta, and 
in Sicily on south walls. In the same house at Weybridge 
we have flowered for years in succession, in moderate heat, 
other plants, Bignonia jasminoides, and Rhynchospermum 
jasminoides, usually treated with heat. 

The sweet Alyssum, so much used with us as an edging, 
is a native of. this country, and grows luxuriantly in the 
crevices of the lime rocks on the side of the roads every- 
where, indeed flowering freely all winter. Like the other 
natives, if furnished with plenty of soil it becomes quite 
bushy, and is then one mass of flowers. Chinese Primulas 
flourish as perennials. 

A remarkable feature in Riviera gardening is that many 
flowers which with us are annuals and die down in the 
autumn, are here perennials and attain a considerable size. 
Thus Petunias survive the winter, and speedily become large 
bushes, which are covered with flowers early in February; by 
the end of that month they are quite gorgeous. Carna- 
tions also do not suffer from the winter, and become large 
bushes if taken care of; they flower sparsely during winter 
in the sun, but not in the shade. Pinks bloom, but not 
until April ; Ten-week Stocks and Wallflowers become 
large permanent bushes, and are splendid in March, the 



108 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 






Stocks especially are dazzling with the profusion of their 
flowers. The singular Coccoloba platycladon flourishes as a 
large bush. 

The Narcissus and Tulip seem to like the lime soil, and 
grow wild in profusion on some of the cultivated terraces, 
so much so as to be a nuisance to the agriculturists. The 
Narcissus begins to flower in January, the Tulip not until 
the middle of February. Hyacinths are found wild, but not 
abundantly; they thrive well in the soil of the country. 
Those which I have brought from England, flowered in 
pots, and, subsequently planted out, have since bloomed in 
the open garden as brilliantly as the first year. I presume 
the climate is very much like that of their native country. 
Indeed they do better in the lime soil of this region, 
slightly manured, than when planted in Chestnut mould. 
In the latter they grow too rankly, as if the soil were too 
rich for them. 

Primroses and Hepaticas are found wild abundantly on 
the shady side of a deep watercourse through a sandstone 
valley, called the Primrose valley. I have placed them in a 
light artificial soil, where they flourish, as do Cyclamen 
persicum, Crocuses, and Snowdrops, the latter brought 
from England. Snowdrops, however, singularly enough, do 
not flower before January or February, as in the north. 
They retain their natural habit, as does the Peach and Apri- 
cot with us, and die out after a year or two, as northerners 
unsuited to the climate of the south. Ranunculi do very well 
even in the lime soil, but better still in a light artificial mould. 
They flower by the end. of February, and are very lovely. 

Camellias and Azaleas, and, in general, all plants with 
very small, delicate roots, do not succeed in the lime soil, 
which seems too stiff and hot for them. In the absence 
of peat, which is difficult to obtain in the dry sunburnt 
regions of the south of Europe, it is usual to plant them in 
Chestnut earth, mould formed by the decay of the Chestnut 
leaves in Chestnut tree forests. But at Mentone even this 
earth is difficult to obtain, and expensive, for it has to be 
fetched by mules from some ten miles or more in the moun- 
tains. However, I scooped out all the earth from a small 
slightly-shaded terrace down to the rock, and filled it with 



FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 109 

an artificial soil, formed of two-thirds Chestnut earth, one- 
third sand, and a little powdered charcoal. In this border 
I planted Camellias and Azaleas several years ago. 
They have done very well, without any protection winter 
or summer, and the Camellias have flowered freely each 
winter from Christmas to April ; the Azaleas do not bloom 
until April. Latterly my gardener has discovered in the 
higher mountains a region covered with Calluna vulgaris, 
our ling heather. The soil, to the depth of several inches, 
is formed by the decay of the heather leaves. I have had a 
quantit}" of this soil brought down here, rilled two terraces 
hewn out of the rock, away from olive roots, and have 
planted them with Camellias from Lago Maggiore which 
are doing very well. I therefore consider the question 
solved as to the adaptability of the climate to the cultiva- 
tion of Camellias in the open, provided a proper soil be 
supplied. As yet they have not been grown in this district. 

The Cape Jasmine or Gardenia, planted out in these 
artificial soils, grows luxuriantly, and is covered with well- 
formed buds, which blossom at the end of May and 
beginning of June. The gardener tells me that the 
flowers are very beautiful, but that their odour is very 
bad, actually poisoning the garden. This view of the case 
is a good illustration of the indifference, nay, positive dislike, 
of many southerners to the scents which we prize the most, 
whilst they seem to positively rejoice in the most villanous 
and most unwholesome odours. 

I must not forget to say a few words about the Salvias, 
many species of which flower and flourish throughout the 
winter. The most valuable, however, are : the Salvia 
cardinalis, or imperialis as it is called here, the Salvia 
gesneriajflora, and the S. splendens. The former "rows 
luxuriantly as a large ligneous bush, from five to eight feet 
high, and is covered with a profusion of terminal crimson 
flowers. It begins to flower early in December, and con- 
tinues to present a gorgeous mass of bloom for a couple of 
months. The two latter grow and flower with the same 
luxuriance, beginning to blossom about Christmas, and 
continuing to form dazzling masses of scarlet flowers all 
winter. They really are perfectly splendid, and both 



110 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

deserve the epithet :e splendens," especially when in close 
proximity to a large bush of the Marguerite, or Chrysan- 
themum fruticosum. This latter shrub assumes a large 
size, and by the middle of February, in the sun, is covered 
with thousands of Daisy-like flowers, which look like a 
sheet of white. These plants, with the Nasturtium, occupy 
a prominent place in our winter gardening from the 
luxuriance of their bloom. The Nasturtium flowers freely 
all winter, but in the sun only, becoming a ligneous 
perennial climber. 

The soil of my garden and rocks being entirely calcareous is 
not favourable to the general run of Conifers. There are some, 
however, which seem peculiarly suited to such soils, and 
thrive on calcareous rocks all over the Mediterranean 
basin, such as Pin us maritima and Pinus halepensis, and most 
Cypresses, especially Cupressus pyramidalis, C. macrocarpa, 
C. Lambertiana. The very beautiful Norfolk Island Pine, 
Arauearia excelsia, seems to grow vigorously in this soil. 
There are several very beautiful specimens at the Monaco 
gardens which have grown to a height of 18 feet in less 
than four years. I found them flourishing also in the lime 
soil of Malta. There are several species of Juniper wild on 
my rocks, and thriving luxuriantly. 

Bananas grow, flourish, and ripen their fruit in sheltered 
waim localities, as, for instance, in the garden of General 
Mouton, on the beach, below the Roccabruna station. I 
imported from Algiers several Abyssinian Musas, the Musa 
Ensete, which have grown vigorously in my garden and 
have become very beautiful "trees," in the course of less 
than three years. 

Impressed with the idea that in a climate where the 
Date Palm flourishes so well other hardy Palms might 
succeed, I sent to Algiers and Marseilles for those 
marked half hardy in the catalogues, planted them out, 
and succeeded in getting many through the winter. The 
Chamserops humilis proves to be perfectly hardy, which 
was sure to be the case, as it succeeds where the winter 
climate is much more severe than on this coast. Thus it 
grows freely and abundantly in sandy, uncultivated loca- 
lities in the south of Spain — -in Andalusia especially — as 



FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. Ill" 

freely indeed asGorse on our commons; and it used, it is said, 
to grow wild in Provence and on the Riviera. The 
Chamserops Palmetto and excelsa also have survived the 
winters in perfect health, as likewise Latania Borbonica, 
Cocos oleracea, Phoenix farinosa, Sabal Adansonii, Chamse- 
rops stauracantha, Oreodoxa Sancona, and Rhapis nabelli- 
formis. Others died, but I believe that I did not give 
them a fair trial. They came to me from a healed 
Palm-house, and were at once planted out in November. 
Perhaps they would have survived had the transition been 
less sudden. What makes me think so is that some plants 
of Linum trigynum which as I have stated is perfectly 
hardy here, flowering profusely nearly all winter, received 
from Marseilles at the same time, no doubt from a plant - 
house, languished and "perished. Moreover, the Palms were 
planted in the lime soil of the country, and more extended 
experience of the Palm tribe in Africa and Spain has led 
me to conclude that to give them a fair chance the soil in 
which they are planted should be either mainly or partly 
siliceous. Certainly, wdienever I have seen the Palm 
growing luxuriantly in masses, the soil has been of this 
character. 

For many winters I have been in the habit of putting 
Palms, principally Latania Borbonica and Corypha australis, 
in pots and in jardinieres, and keeping them in south draw- 
ing-rooms, in a day temperature of from 62° to 64°, and 
night temperature of 54° to 60°. They remain perfectly 
healthy all winter, and on repotting them in the spring I 
generally find their roots quite fresh and sound. Palms are 
much used in this way in Paris, even in winter, for house 
decoration. They are very ornamental in rooms, and very 
hardy, bearing the dryness of the atmosphere of inhabited 
houses with apparent immunity. Indeed, it is sufficient to 
visit the Palm-houses on the Continent in spring to be 
convinced of their hardihood. I may mention, as an illus- 
tration, the Palm-house of the Botanic Garden at Mont- 
pelier, which I visited one year at the end of April. I 
found it perfectly crammed with Palms of all sorts, small 
and large, which had scarcely standing room, and yet they 
all appeared to be healthy and doing well after a long 



112 THE BIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

winter's confinement in a half-lighted lean-to building. I 
was told that in summer they were nearly all put out in 
the garden.' 

Wishing to ascertain, by personal observation, what 
light horticulture throws on the climate of other protected 
regions of the north shores of the Mediterranean, more to 
the west, in the spring of 1866 I made a horticultural 
excursion from Mentone to Marseilles, starting April 
the 10th. 

At Nice I examined the gardens of Count Margaria, 
M. Gastaux, and Baron Vigier. In all 1 found, as in my 
own, the ordinary spring flowers, Salvias, Iberis semper- 
virens, Silene, Hyacinth, Narcissus, Ranunculus, Vir- 
ginian Stock, going off, Roses coming on. 

Count Margaria'' s garden is more especially remarkable 
for his cultivation of the Camellia in the open air. He has 
scores of large Camellia trees, from ten to fifteen or twenty 
feet high, such as are seen on the shores of Lake Como, all 
looking perfectly healthy, and covered with thousands of 
flowers. The Count told me that he has been cultivating" 
Camellias for many years at Nice, and had obtained most 
of his trees from Como. They had given him great trouble. 
He had tried various artificial soils, the calcareous soil of 
Nice, as stated, not suiting Camellias or fine-rooted plants 
in general. He had planted them in soils composed of" 
charcoal, decomposed manure, and sand, and in chestnut 
leaf-mould, the usual soil selected in the south of Europe, 
but had never been satisfied with the results obtained until 
he imported soil from the neighbourhood of Lake Como, 
which he had done at a great expense. This soil is a rich 
loamy peat, more compact than the peat of the north of 
Europe, apparently containing a considerable amount of 
ordinary leaf-mould. It is more suited to the dry air and 
scorching sun of the Riviera and Nice climate than ordi- 
nary peat. It is the soil in which the Camellia grows to be 
a tree twenty or thirty feet high, and shows such surprising 
lr .uriance, on the shores of Lakes Como and Maggiore. 

At first the Count, conforming to the usual ideas on 
this subject, planted his Camellias in the shade, but 
recollecting that the Como trees are planted in the 



FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 113 

open air, in a locality nearly as warm as Nice, he boldly 
threw aside all attempts at shading, removed or cut down 
all protection, leaving them in the full blaze of the 
sun, and that with decided advantage. I myself recollect 
being surprised to seethe large tree Camellias at the Italian 
lake in full sunshine, for wherever I have been, before or 
since, I have always found half shade inculcated as a precept 
in their cultivation. Still it must be remembered that the 
air is not so dry, nor the sun so ardent and scorching, at 
the Italian lakes as it is on the north shore of the Mediter- 
ranean. I would remark that these large tree Camellias, 
covered with thousands of flowers, beautiful as they are, 
have one great disadvantage when compared with smaller 
plants. As the blossoms come into flower in succession, 
not all at once, many must be fading. These faded flowers 
do not fall off for some time, and spoil the look of the tree 
unless taken off with the hand. This the gardener does in 
a conservatory, but it becomes impossible when the tree is 
covered with myriads of flowers. Thus, although it sounds 
very grand to hear of Camellias covered with thousands of 
blossoms, such trees in reality do not look as well when in 
flower, as smaller, more manageable plants. The principal 
sorts cultivated were the Iride, alba plena, variegata plena, 
Anemonseflora, incarnata, althseiflora plena, flowering in 
November and December ; Henri Fabre, Rival rouge, pul- 
cherrima, Printemps, flowering in January ; and Grand 
Monarque rouge, flowering in February. 

In addition to the plants which I have described as 
flourishing throughout the winter in my garden in the open 
air, without protection, I found at Count Margaria's per- 
fectly healthy specimens of the following plants : — Dasyli- 
rium robustum, juncifolium, longifolium, gracile, glaucum, 
strictum, Alsophila excelsa, Ficus repens, Beaucarnea recur- 
vata, Agnostus sinuatus, Grevillea alpestris, Chamserops 
excelsa, Bambusa Fortunei, Zamia villosa, horrida, Phor- 
mium tenax, Bignonia Reevesiana, Philodendron pertusum, 
Bignonia jasminifolia. 

The garden of Baron Yigier, which rises by a gentle slope 
from the sea, looks full south-west, and is thoroughly shel- 
tered from the north-east by the mountain of Villefranche, 

i 



114 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

It contains many remarkable specimens of some of the above 
mentioned plants, growing luxuriantly in the open air, as 
also many others, amongst which I would name Yucca 
pendula, quadricolor, draconis ; Dracaena Draco, guate- 
malensis; Greigia sphacelata ; Ficus Chauveri, Porteana; 
Brahea dulcis; Dion edule, Ohamserops Gbiesbreghtii, 
tomentosa; Aralia dactylifolia, Araucaria excelsa, glauca 
robusta; Melaleuca ericifolia, 

The garden created by M. Gastaux, now the property of 
M. Gambart, contains many of the above plants, but is 
more especially remarkable for the magnificent specimens 
of the MusaEnsete and of the Araucaria which it contains. 
They grow alone or in groups on the lawn, and are all noble 
plants. Two Auracaria excelsa have rapidly grown in 
the course of a few years to an elevation of thirty-five 
or forty feet, and are perfectly splendid trees ; their foliage 
is glossy and bright, and each whorl of branches succeeds 
the other with mathematical precision. The soil and climate 
must suit them thoroughly; the former is a red calcareous 
earth, mixed with loam. The Musa Ensete might also be 
in its native Abyssinia; in three or four years the plants 
have risen to a height of above twenty feet, and constitute 
one mass of wide graceful leaves, not drooping as in the 
common edible Banana, or torn by the wind, as are always 
the leaves of the latter when planted in the open air, but 
intact and erect, folding gracefully one over the other. As 
already stated, I have myself received several from Algiers, 
which are fast becoming very beautiful plants. 

This garden is one of the curiosities of Nice. It occupies 
a large area a little above the sea level, and has been brought 
into thorough cultivation. Various avenues have been 
formed of Eucalyptus globulus, Schinus mulli, Magnolia 
grandiflora, and they are all growing with amazing vigour ; 
the two former have become large trees in the course of a 
few years. The Eucalyptus is being planted extensively all 
over this part of the Mediterranean shore, as alsO in Corsica 
and Algeria. The summer warmth, the mildness of the 
winters, and the dryness of the atmosphere appear to repro- 
duce its native Australian climate, so that it grows with 
all its natural vigour. As the wood is hard and good — fit 



FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 115 

for building and ship purposes, notwithstanding its very 
rapid growth, it is likely to prove a very valuable acquisition 
to the arboriculture of the south of Europe. The large 
trees planted near the railway station at Nice, the growth 
of half a dozen years, well illustrate its capabilities as a 
rapid grower. Moreover, it appears to possess the virtue 
of rendering malarious regions healthy, probably by draining 
the soil. It has been tried in marshes, but does not thrive 
in actually wet land, or in very hot climates. 

On leaving Nice, I went over to Golf Juan, a few miles 
from Cannes, to see the gardens of M. Narbonnard, a 
well-known horticulturist in that region, who supplies 
most of the Cannes gardens. I found him fully alive to the 
capabilities of the soil, sun, and climate of this part of the 
north shore of the Mediterranean. He told me that the 
failures of most amateurs to raise Palms, Dracaenas, Dasy- 
lirium, Yuccas, which would really grow and flourish in this 
region in the open air, were owing, as I presumed, to the 
specimens planted being received direct from hothouses. In 
his establishment the plants raised from seeds in heat, and 
kept under cover for a year or two, are put out-of-doors 
gradually, kept entirely without protection for a couple of 
years, and then only given to his customers. By such treat- 
ment he could rely on their standing out of doors the slight 
cold of southern winters. He showed me a large collection 
of plants usually considered too delicate for outdoor cultiva- 
tion, even in the south of Europe, which he could warrant 
to stand the winter cold between Toulon and Pisa. In nearly 
all this region the thermometer goes down to the freezing 
point or to a degree or two above or below, several times in 
the winter. Among these were — Phoenix pumila, leonensis, 
reclinata : Cocos campestris, flexuosa, australis ; Jubsea 
spectabilis, Seaforthia elegans, Corypha australis, Dion 
edule, Zamia horrida, Cycas revoluta, Chamserops elegans, 
Dracaena cordylina, Yucca aloifolia, gloriosa; Casuarina 
tenuissima, stricta. He had a collection of healthy A.rau- 
caria excelsa, from two to three feet high. 

The next day (April 12) I was at Cannes, and went care- 
fully over the garden of the Duke of Valombrosa, which is 
very sheltered from the north on a slope all but due south. 

i 2 



116 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

I found vegetation quite as advanced as at Mentone, Nice?, 
and Golf Juan. The Mesembryanthemum flowed down the 
bank sides like a river of purple and lilac. The Banksian 
and m ult i flora Roses were in bloom, other Roses were 
beginning to open, as also Spiraea, Cytisus, Fabiana im- 
bricata, and Erica arborea. There were in the open, in a 
state of perfect health, large specimens of Cycas revoluta, 
Dion edule, Chamserops reclinata, Phoenix leonensis, Arau- 
caria Bidwillii, Aralia Sieboldi, Musa Ensete, Dasylirium 
longissimum, Yucca tricolor, Alsophila australis, Rhopala 
Corcovadensis, Dracaena indivisa. Indeed, the impression 
produced upon me by the careful examination of this 
beautiful and well-kept garden is, that although some 
regions of the Genoese Riviera or Mediterranean under- 
cliff, such as Monaco, Mentone, and St. Remo, may be 
much more sheltered from disagreeable winds than Cannes, 
and much less exposed to night frosts, the amount of sun- 
heat received there, in favoured spots, must be quite as 
great as in any other of these regions. I may say the same 
of Hyeres, which I visited on another occasion a little later 
(on the 22nd of April). I found vegetation nearly, if not 
quite as advanced as at Nice or Cannes. Although more 
troubled with the mistral, or north-west wind, which is the 
pestilence of the South of France or Provence, it must share 
in the general sun-heat and protection which pertains to the 
coast^ regions sheltered by the Maritime Alps and by the 
Apennines, as proved by its vegetation. 

From Cannes I proceeded to Marseilles, and, besides 
visiting the public gardens, went over, carefully, the beautiful 
grounds and hothouses of M. Scaramoneya, an eminent 
Greek merchant, whose gardening establishment, I was told 
by horticulturists, is one of the best and most complete in 
the vicinity of Marseilles. I was much struck (April 13) 
with the extreme difference between the vegetation of this 
garden and that of the protected coast line which I had just 
left. The recent presence, and the habitual presence of 
winter, was evident everywhere. Although in the same 
latitude, the want of protection from the north showed 
itself in the complete absence of nearly all southern vege- 
tation such as I have described. No Lemon or Orange- 



FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 117 

trees, no Palms, no Dracaenas, no Dasylirium, only the 
most hardy Yuccas. Even the spring- flowers were back- 
ward, and Geraniums planted out recently in sheltered, 
sunny situations, had their leaves singed by frost. Deci- 
duous trees scarcely showed any evidence of life, and there 
were many other evidences of recent severe weather. The 
gardener, a very intelligent man, was fully aware of the 
cause of this state of things. Marseilles has no real pro- 
tection from the north winds, lying as it does at the bottom 
of the funnel down which the Rhone descends to the sea. 
Thus, in winter, the thermometer often goes down from 
10° to 15° below the freezing point, whilst in summer, 
owing to its southern altitude, it is burnt up by the scorch- 
ing heat reflected from the limestone mountains that sur- 
round it. Even in summer I was told that the thermometer 
occasionally descends below the freezing point at night. 
On the other hand, the south-west wind often blows from 
the sea so strongly as to bend and break trees and shrubs, 
or to despoil them of nearly all their foliage. The month 
of March this year had been unusually severe and boisterous, 
and many shrubs that had stood their ground for years had 
been killed. In the conservatories and hothouses, however, 
I found all the southern plants cultivated in the open air in 
my garden at Mentone, and at Cannes, Nice., and Hyeres. 
These plants were most luxuriant, and clearly required 
less attention and heat than in similar houses in the 
north. 



The horticultural knowledge acquired on the Riviera has 
in its turn been of use to me in England, and some of my 
readers, gardening on hot sandy soil, may be interested to 
know how this knowledge has been applied. 

My suburban retreat at Weybridge, in Surrey, is situated 
on the margin of a fir- covered, heather-clad forest. The 
flower garden is small, only extending over about a couple of 
acres of siliceous sand. The site was chosen as favourable to 
the health of man, for it is a well known fact that the worse 
a locality is for the cultivation of plants, the drier, the 
sandier it is, the better it is adapted for human health and 



118 THE MVIERA AND MENTONE. 

human longevity. The converse is equally true. A deep, 
moist, rich soil, calculated to support rank fertility, such as 
is found in valleys, on the banks of rivers, is not one that 
the learned in medicine would choose for a convalescent 
hospital, such as the admirable institution on Walton 
Common, a mile or two from me. 

I became the owner of this sandy elysium many years 
ago. I had previously been absolutely a townsman, my life 
having been entirely passed in two great cities, Paris and 
London. What I knew of botany and horticulture was 
merely what townsmen get out of botanical gardens, 
herbaria, and occasional holiday glimpses of the country, 
their " Arcadia/" I entrusted the laying out of my bit of 
common to a " skilful" landscape gardener, recommended 
by a friend, and myself remained passive, mindful of the 
proverb " Ne sutor" 

The future garden, formed of siliceous sand, containing 
a very scanty allowance of vegetable soil, rested on an iron 
pan a few inches from the surface, some three inches thick, 
and as hard as the foot pavement in Pall Mall. It was 
sparsely covered with Heather, Gorse, and Broom. All 
this was removed, and the ground " picturesquely" laid 
out by carting the soil from the centre, and forming irre- 
gular sloping beds all round, in front of the drawing-room 
windows, and at the angles. I paid for deep trenching of 
the entire surface, and for the destruction of the iron pan, 
but I was not there to superintend the works, and it was 
only partially done, as I learnt to my sorrow many years 
afterwards. Then on these beds of sand, raised on the 
unbroken iron pan, were planted above 70£ worth of 
Conifers, evergreens, and shrubs, the garden, it must be 
recollected, not being more than a couple of acres. 

The battle for life, initiated under such conditions, was 
attended with the result that might have been anticipated 
in a sunny, hot, dry situation, and in a sandy soil. At the 
end of two years but few of the rarer shrubs were left. 
Rhododendrons, Portugal Laurels, Hemlock Spruces, Spruce 
Firs, Taxodium sempervirens, Hollies, a few Deodars, and 
Abies Douglasii, with Laburnum, Ash, and Birch, were 
pretty nearly all that remained, and they were anything 



FLO WEES AND HORTICULTURE. 119 

but vigorous in growth and size. Then followed years of 
imperfect garden development. 

My gardening experience has thus been gained on two 
different soils, the one calcareous, the other siliceous, both 
presenting very little vegetable soil. It has led me, in all 
humility, to question a doctrine recently broached by one 
of our great botanical authorities — viz., the adaptability 
of all plants to all soils. In the battle of life those having 
natural affinities to particular soils seem to me to gain the 
day. Of course in rich alluvial soils, mere leaf-mould, all 
plants thrive. But a large portion of the earth's surface is 
covered with lime or sand, and not with deep alluvial soil. 

During these years, had it not been for what was done 
under glass, I should have derived but little pleasure from 
the garden. However, thanks to the knowledge recently 
acquired in the south, which thoroughly applies to a dry., 
sunburnt English garden, an era of improvement has 
begun. 

On digging down to the roots of the trees and of the 
shrubs, to see why they did not thrive as they ought to 
have done, I found everywhere at different depths the iron 
pan I fondly imagined totally destroyed. This was broken 
up, removed wherever it could be got at, and replaced by 
the best soil obtainable in the neighbourhood. I also 
levelled most of the raised beds. In reality, it is perfectly 
ridiculous to make raised sloping beds in a dry sandy, sun- 
burnt soil. Nearly all the rain falls off in summer as from 
a glazed surface, or from the roof of a house. It is still 
worse to raise such sand beds when they lie on an unbroken 
iron pan. The only plants that had penetrated this iron 
pan were young oaks, and this fact is a good illustration of 
the immense strength and power of the tap-root thrown 
out by the acorn. Where the beds were not levelled split 
lengths of Firs about a foot in diameter were imbedded 
some four inches at the margin of the raised beds, and filled 
in with good loam, thus arresting the rain, and preventing 
it running off the border. Plants thrive wonderfully behind 
these split Firs, which give a picturesque finish to the beds, 
with flowering plants, such as Petunias, Verbenas, trailing 
over. 



120 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

A hungry, meagre soil, such as I describe, which unas- 
sisted grows annuals only a few inches high, being really 
incapable alone of doing justice to gardening efforts, a great 
quantity of good loam and manure was mixed with it. 
Then, instead of depending chiefly on annuals, which in dry 
seasons in such soils are soon burnt up and perish, a large 
stock of the plants that I find do the best in the dry 
climate of the Riviera is prepared and planted every- 
where : Sweet Alyssum, Pelargoniums, Petunias, and Mar- 
guerites. They are planted out and never watered after 
the first week or two, even during long periods of drought; 
yet, as anticipated, they do not flag in the least, and soon 
became one blaze of bloom. Centaurea candidissima and 
gymnocarpa also do very well with little or no watering. 
A margin of Alyssum or Centaurea, with a thickly-planted 
border of Petunias or Geraniums, and later in the season a 
background of Dahlias, look remarkably well. Geraniums 
do not grow much in size in such dry soils, but they flower 
freely in the hottest and driest weather. Amongst foliage 
plants I find Iresine Herbstii a failure during drought 
without water, but it pushes up with the autumn rains, 
and looks very handsome. On the other hand, Amaranthus 
ruber does very well during long continued drought, as 
does the Perilla. Well manured, the soil suits admirably 
Gladioli. 

I, find also that, imitating the south, much more orna- 
mental use may be made of Aloes, Cactaceae, such as Eche- 
veriaSj and of hardy Palms, both for garden and house decora- 
tion, than is usual. They require but little heat protection 
in winter, and do well in summer anywhere — indoors or 
out. Palms require a deal of water when growing in warm 
weather, but Aloes and Cactacese demand so little that they 
really give no trouble at all. The Aloes too reproduce 
themselves very freely by offshoots. 

Subtropical Palms in reality are very hardy plants. I 
have some healthy, vigorous Palms, Latania Borbonica and 
Corypha Australis, received four years ago from Algiers, 
six inches high with four leaves formed. They are now 
three feet high with twelve leaves. They are plunged in 
the garden every year from June 10th to September 10th 



FLOWERS AND HORTICULTURE. 121 

without any protection. The remainder of the year, nine 
months, they live in a disused coach-house through which 
I have passed the flue of a stove, and in the doors of which 
I have put glass. This is also the winter residence of the 
Aloes and Echeverias, of the Orange and Lemon trees. 

I am unfortunate in my gardens as regards Roses, still 
the queen of flowers ; for neither sandy nor calcareous 
soils are suited to their constitution. I would except the 
Banksia, which flourishes in the Mentone lime soil. I 
have, therefore, in both gardens to rely on soils artificially 
prepared with loam and manure. 

In conclusion, I may say, that the horticultural facts 
contained in this chapter corroborate the researches made 
on the shores and islands of the Mediterranean, and prove 
conclusively that protection from north winds has an 
extreme influence on climate and vegetation, an influence 
which it requires many degrees of latitude to compensate. 

This fact applies to England as well as to the south of 
Europe. In building our houses and making our gardens, 
we do not think enough of protection from the north. 
With its assistance our climate may be rendered much less 
trying both to the human and to the vegetable consti- 
tution, as is proved by Hastings, Yentnor, and Torquay, 
the*chief merit of which is protection from the north. 



CHAPTEE V. 

THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

HISTORY NAVIGATION— TIDES — DEPTH — SOUNDING — STORMS — TEMPE- 
RATURE PISH — A NATURALIST'S PRESERVE— BLUE COLOUR — THE ST. 

LOUIS ROCKS. 

B?} b'&xeav ([xr]) irapa 6lva Tro\v(f)\oio€oio BaXdcrcrrjs. 

Homer's Iliad. 

" There shrinks no ebb in that tideless sea, 
"Which changeless rolls eternally; 
So that wildest of waves, in their angriest mood, 
Scarce break on the bounds of the land for a rood ; 
And the powerless moon beholds them flow, 
Heedless if she come or go. 
Calm on high, in main or bay, 
On their course she hath no sway. 
The rock unworn its base doth bare, 
And looks o'er the surf, but it comes not there ; 
And the fringe of the foam may be seen below. 
On the line that it left long ages ago ; 
A smooth short space of yellow sand 
Between it and the greener land." 

Byron's Siege of Gorintli. 

The ordinary notion of the Mediterranean is that of a 
blue and tranquil ocean lake. At Mentone, during the 
winter, this poetical view of the great inland sea is often 
strangely falsified. Sometimes, for weeks together, it is 
constantly angry, quite realizing the experience of " pious 
iEneas" in days gone by. For it then is indeed "troubled 
and perfidious/'' ever breaking in angry billows on the 
shingly beach. 

To those who are familiarized with the ever varying 
moods of our old ocean, ever advancing, ever retreating, this 
seething, all but tideless sea, which day and night beats 
the shore with impotent rage, never advancing, never re- 



THE MEDITERRANEAN. 123 

treating, is at first tedious in the extreme. Gradually, 
however, the eye, the ear, the mind, become accustomed to 
its monotonous anger, and open to its real magnificence. 
Then at last we feel that it is a glorious privilege to live, 
as we do at Mentone, in front of the apparently boundless 
liquid Mediterranean plain — at one time heaving restlessly, 
at another, in a calmer mood, covered with myriads of 
facets on which the sparkling sunshine dances and glitters. 
The daily rising of the sun, also, in the east, out of the 
waters, colouring the skies and the waves with hues which 
surpass those of the rainbow, is a magnificent sight^ that 
never palls. 

To a reflective mind, the Mediterranean is the most in- 
teresting of all seas, of all waters. Its shores are hallowed 
by association with the entire history of human civilization. 
It may be said to have been the cradle of the human race 
and intellect. When the rest of the world was a blank, a 
mystery, every region of its circumference was known and 
inhabited by the nations whom we may consider the fathers 
of history. The Jews, the Phoenicians, the Egyptians, the 
Greeks, the Carthaginians, the Romans, all lived on its 
shores, navigated its waters, and developed their life as 
nations within sight of it. In early, half-fabulous days, it 
carried the fair Helen from her Grecian home to Troy, and 
then brought her ill-used husband, and the kings and 
chieftains of Greece, to the walls of her doomed asylum. 
Later, it witnessed the rise and progress of Christianity, 
was the scene of the voyages, the shipwrecks, and the trials 
of the apostles. It carried the crusaders on its bosom to 
fight for the Cross, and bore back the remnant of their 
marvellous armaments to their northern homes. In modern 
times, too, the Mediterranean has been the road to the 
East, the battle-field of the world, the connecting link 
between Europe, Asia, and Africa. 

We have authentic records of the climate and meteor- 
ology of the Mediterranean in the writings of the ancient 
Greeks and Romans, such as Pausanias and Vitruvius, ex- 
tending to above two thousand years. Both climate and 
meteorology appear to have been then what they are now, 
and the Mediterranean was navigated, by those who in- 



124 THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

habited its coasts, pretty much as it is navigated in our 
own days, in a cautious land and shelter-loving manner. 
Then, as now, the winter was a stormy time, and the 
danger of navigating with sails a sea in which there is so 
much uncertainty as to the direction of the wind, and such 
frequent collisions between north and south, was so im- 
pressed on the minds of mariners, that all long vo} r ages 
were abandoned. Merchant vessels were pulled on shore, 
and remained " in port," free from the dangers of the deep, 
from the beginning of October until the beginning of April. 
Marine insurances were known at Athens even in those 
times; but navigation in the six forbidden months was 
considered so dangerous that no insurances were taken, and 
the interval was specially set apart for deciding litigation 
in maritime cases, as a time when all the parties concerned 
were sure to be at home. 

Mariners in those days hugged the shore, and at the 
slightest unfavourable change ran into the nearest port, or 
took shelter under the nearest headland ; and this, not- 
withstanding all the modern improvements in navigation, 
they do even now. With a slight breeze, the sea, near the 
land, is studded with vessels, their white lateen sails ex- 
tended, like swallows skimming over the waters of the 
deep ; but if a stiff wind and a heavy sea rise, they in- 
stantly seek shelter, and disappear. Then, for days to- 
gether, not a sail is seen, merely a stray steamer nearing 
the land for shelter in north winds, until fine weather 
returning, again lures them out of their retreats. 

The vessels now employed in the coasting trade are 
probably much the same, in size and form, as those used 
by the old Greeks. They are, generally speaking, from 
about twenty to fifty tons burden, seldom larger. This is 
no doubt owing to the circumstance that most of the 
smaller ports are ineffectually protected from the wind and 
the sea, so that they have to be pulled up on the beach for 
safety. This is done by means of windlasses, and with the 
assistance of the entire maritime population. They are 
thus unloaded and loaded on dry land, when they are again 
dragged and pushed down the beach into the sea, by main 
force. 



NAVIGATION— TIDES. 125 

In the small ports all along the Riviera scores of these 
small vessels may be seen, high and dry on the beach, 
waiting for cargo or fair weather. There is a jetty now 
building at Mentone which already gives some shelter, 
but up to quite recently all the vessels that came and 
departed were thus hauled ashore. So it was that the 
Greeks pulled up their vessels on the shores of Troy, after 
landing, and it was when thus drawn up that they were 
fired and destroyed by their leader. 

Although poetically called tideless, the expanse of water 
that forms the Mediterranean obeys the same laws as the 
great ocean. Like the ocean, it feels the vicinity of our 
cold satellite the moon, and rises and falls, at stated hours, 
under its influence. The body of water, however, is so 
much smaller than that of the ocean, notwithstanding the 
great depth of the Mediterranean, that the moon's attrac- 
tion produces a comparatively trifling effect. 

The height of the tidal wave varies considerably in dif- 
ferent regions of this great inland sea, ranging from a few 
lines to a foot or more. On one occasion, when at Naples, 
at an hotel near the shore, an invalid, I used to amuse 
myself by watching the sea, as it broke against the sea- 
wall beneath the windows. During a calm, which lasted 
more than a week, I observed that a rock crowned with 
sea- weed, immediately in front, was daily covered and un- 
covered by an evident tide. 

Whenever the wind blows on or off the shore, it raises 
or lowers the sea-level, all over the Mediterranean, several 
feet. This makes it all the mere difficult to recognise the 
existence of the tidal wave. At Mentone, when the wind 
has been blowing several days from the south-east or south- 
west, the sea reaches nearly to the road in the eastern bay. 
When, on the contrary, it has been blowing several days 
from shore, not only the shingle, but a line of sandy beach 
is often uncovered. 

The style of navigation adopted by the Mediterranean 
sailors, may and does render them expert boatmen, but it 
is said, also, to make them less fit for lengthened naviga- 
tion than their more adventurous northern brethren. The 
navigation of an inland sea cannot, certainly, rear such a 



126 THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

race of hardy sailors as is produced by the navigation of 
the wide Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, and by the pursuit of 
the great fisheries, amidst the storms and icebergs of the 
Northern seas. No wonder the sailors of Columbus, ac- 
customed to never lose sight of land for more than a few 
days, should have trembled when they had been weeks out 
at sea, and should have feared they were sailing into an 
unfathomable abyss, from which there was no return. 

When the sea is breaking furiously on the beach, as it often 
does in winter, there is but little marine life visible. The 
sea-level being ever the same, owing to the absence of per- 
ceptible tides, there are no exploring walks on the sands at 
low tide, as on our coasts, no searching after zoophytes and 
fuci. On calm days, however, a walk to the extreme end 
of the Cap Martin introduces the amateur naturalist to 
pools lying between jagged rocks, where there is much to 
be observed. There are also other points along the eastern 
coast where similar pools may be found, containing various 
kinds of sea-weed, sea anemones, hermit crabs, inhabiting 
pretty shells which they have dragged from deeper water, 
and other marine treasures ; only to be discovered, how- 
ever, on days of perfect calm. 

The Mediterranean is a deep sea, and its depth is very 
great on this coast near the shore. According to Lyell, 
Saussure found a depth of two thousand feet a few yards 
from the land at Nice, and from Toulon to Genoa the sea 
is everywhere very deep near the shore. This is always 
the case in the Mediterranean, and elsewhere, whenever 
mountains terminate abruptly in or near the sea, as along 
the Riviera. The abysses of the sea are probably at least 
as deep as the mountains in their vicinity are high ; and as 
at Mentone the higher mountain range reaches the sea 
line, there are no doubt alpine valleys many thousand feet 
deep within a very short distance of the shore — a grand 
idea ! 

Thus is explained the absence of deltas at the mouths of 
the large torrents which descend from the mountains, and 
fall into the sea in the Mentonian amphitheatre. For 
countless ages these torrents have been rolling, during the 
winter rains, masses of soil and boulders into the sea, and yet 



DEPTH — SOUNDING. 127 

no impression lias been produced on the outline of the 
bays, which remain perfect. No doubt these boulders, 
which form the shingly beach, soon fall into these all but 
unfathomable depths, just as stones rolled down a house-top 
would fall into the space below. The same remark applies, 
in part, to the Paillon at Nice. Thus, at the bottom of 
these marine valleys are now forming", no doubt, beds of 
clay and sand, and perhaps of conglomerate, similar in 
character to the one on which the village of Roccabruna is 
perched. 

The Mediterranean may truly be considered a deep sea, 
for, in a great portion of its extent, its depth varies from 
five to ten thousand feet, or between one and two miles— a 
fact which has been ascertained in laying the telegraph 
cables, which cross it in various directions. Yet, even this 
depth is trifling, compared with that of the Atlantic, be- 
tween Europe and Africa, and America. A depth of 3150 
fathoms, or 18,900 feet, has been reached [Challenger, 
1873), and it is presumed that the depth may extend to 
thirty thousand feet, nearly six miles. 

Formerly deep sea sounding was effected by means of a 
lead or weight fastened to a line, and thrown out from the 
ship. By this plan, however, it was found difficult, if not 
impossible, to reach a depth much above six hundred 
fathoms, or between three and four thousand feet. If the 
lead was heavy, it could not be hauled back, and the line 
broke ; if it was light, it was floated away by currents. 
The impossibility of hauling in a heavy weight, once it has- 
reached deep water, will be easily understood, when it is 
known that at a depth of fourteen thousand four hundred 
feet the pressure of the water is as three tons on every 
square inch of surface. To this must be added the weight 
of the whole line used for deep-sea soundings, which would 
itself, at that depth, amount to one ton. The difficulty 
has, however, been overcome by the application of steam 
power, which is now used in sounding and dredging at great 
depths. "Weights are used, so contrived, that on touching 
the bottom, they separate from the line, which can then be 
hauled up. Thanks to this contrivance, and to the use of 
steam, the greater part of the Mediterranean and of the 



128 THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

Atlantic has been surveyed. The Atlantic has been found 
to be a deep valley, lying between Europe, Africa, and 
America, and dipping deeper below the sea-level than the 
highest mountain rises above the surface of the globe. 

It was supposed by the pioneer of deep-sea dredging, tire 
late Edward Forbes, that at about 600 fathoms* depth all 
life ceased, that below this level all was gloom and darkness, 
and that life existed not. The progress made since his 
death in deep-sea dredging has dispelled all such views, 
proving them to be altogether erroneous. Life is found 
everywhere, in the uttermost depths of the ocean, as on the 
highest mountains. Sir John Ross, in 1818, dredging in 
Baffin's Bay, brought up sea worms from 1000 fathoms, 
and from 800 fathoms, a Medusa, The latter was then 
thought to have been entangled in the line, but is now 
recognised to be a species inhabiting those deep waters. 

In 1861, Professor Fleming Jenkin, sent to repair a 
ruptured telegraph cable between Sardinia and Bona, 
brought up a fragment of cable from 1200 fathoms, with a 
true coral, a Caryophillia, attached to it. Later, Dr. 
William Carpenter and Dr. Wyville Thomson, in the sur- 
veying ships, Lightning ■, 1868 ; Porcupine, 1869 — 70; 
and Challenger, 1873 — 4, have found life in the Atlantic 
at, all but the deepest depths reached, 2850 fathoms or 
17,000 feet. At these immense depths it is doubtful if 
light penetrates, and the source from which the living orga- 
nisms find the elements of nutrition they require is still 
a mystery, a debated point. 

Although the Mediterranean is only separated from the 
Atlantic by the peninsula of Spain, the elevated and 
mountainous character of that country, and the other 
conditions I have elsewhere enumerated, prevent a large 
proportion of the storms that occur in the western Atlantic 
reaching it. Thus M. Matteuci has recently published a 
paper in which he shows that out of 118 storms coming 
from the Atlantic and striking England and Ireland, 49 
only reached Italy. In October, November, and December 
the progress of these storms to Italy is much more 
frequent than at other periods; while in winter, and still 
more in summer, a great diminution occurs. In the three 



STORMS — TEMPERATURE. 1 2 9 

months named, out of 29 storms 23 reached Italy; in April, 
May, June, July, and August, out of 41 only 3 arrived at 
Italy. These facts substantiate my own observations as to 
the frequency of south-westerly storms in autumn, and 
explain the usual fine weather in this inland sea in summer. 

The Mediterranean is a warm sea. At all times of the 
year it is five or six degrees warmer than the Atlantic 
Ocean under the same latitude ; and in winter it is never 
cooled down to the same extent as the latter in northern 
and even temperate regions. In the open oceans there are, 
deep below the surface, cold currents from the north and 
south pole, which have been revealed by the deep-sea 
soundings of Lieut. Maury and others. Thus, in the 
Atlantic Ocean, — at the bottom of the Gulf Stream, a tem- 
perature of only 35°Fah. has been found, whilst the surface 
is above 80°. The Mediterranean, a land-enclosed sea, 
is not accessible to these polar currents, which is one of the 
causes no doubt of its exceptional .warmth. Even in winter, 
I have never found it lower than 54° on the Mentone coast 
six or ten feet below the surface. 

Dr. Carpenter states that if we go deep enough in the 
ocean we shall always find the temperature as low as 32°; 
but in enclosed seas, such as the Mediterranean, the deeper 
and colder water, circulating from the poles, cannot enter; 
therefore the lowest bottom temperature is determined by 
the lowest winter temperature of the surface. Scarcity of 
life in the Mediterranean he considers to be owing to a 
deficiency of oxygen in the water, due to its combining with 
a large quantity of organic matter brought down by the 
rivers and emptying into it. Thus, while in the Atlantic 
we usually find 20 per cent, of oxygen and 40 per cent, of 
carbonic acid, in the bottom waters of the Mediterranean 
there is often only 5 per cent, of oxygen and over 65 per 
cent, of carbonic acid. He considers the Red Sea and its 
neighbourhood the hottest region on the earth, the tem- 
perature of the surface water rising to 85° or 90°, and the 
bottom temperature being about 71°, corresponding to the 
greatest winter cold. Outside of this sea, however, in the 
Arabian Gulf, the bottom temperature is 33°. As the lowest 
bottom temperature of the Red Sea is as high as 71°. living 

K 



130 THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

corals should occur there at greater depths than anywhere 
else in the world. 

There seems to have been little if any change in the tem- 
perature of the Mediterranean and of its shores within the 
memory of man. The same vegetation exists and flourishes 
around it that existed and flourished when the earliest records 
were penned, those of Sacred Writ and of Homer. The 
geological features do not either appear to have changed 
within that period, except as regards slight elevations 
and depressions of some coasts. Thus, the climate has pro- 
bably been the same during the historic period. It has been 
characterized in former historic days, as now, by sunshine, 
by little rain, and by an atmosphere which does not contain 
one-half of the moisture of the English atmosphere. Indeed, 
its climate has no doubt been what it is now ever since the 
continents of Asia, Africa, and Europe have assumed their 
present shape, ever since the existence of the rainless tract 
of which the deserts of Sahara, of Arabia, and of Cobi are 
the expression. 

Owing to the paucity of rain and to the small number 
of large rivers that empty into the Mediterranean, the 
suppl}' of fresh water to that sea is much below- the amount 
taken up by evaporation. To meet this deficiency a wide 
stream or current of sea-water, many hundred feet deep, 
sets in through the Straits of Gibraltar from the Atlantic, 
at a rate of from three to six miles an hour. This inward 
current was formerly supposed to be owing to a difference 
of level ; the Mediterranean, in this hypothesis, being lower 
than the Atlantic. The researches of Admiral Smyth, and 
of other observers, have proved this view to be fallacious. 
The Atlantic, the Mediterranean, the Black Sea, the 
Adriatic, and even the Red Sea, have all the same level. 

Admiral Smyth and Sir Charles Lyell doubt the ex- 
istence of a deep counter-current from the Mediterranean 
to the Atlantic through the Straits of Gibraltar. Lieut. 
Maury, on the contrary, considers its existence proved by 
reasoning as well as by observation. Were such a counter- 
current not to exist, he says, the waters of the Mediter- 
ranean would not only be slightly salter than those of the 
Atlantic, as they actually are, but would become very much 






CURRENTS — FISH. 131 

Salter, like those of the Dead Sea. which has no outlet, and 
would deposit salt at the bottjm from over-saturation. This 
is not the case, which proves, he thinks, that there must be 
a deep counter and outer current of water, of a denser 
gravity — from increased saturation with salt — than the 
upper and inward Atlantic current. Sir Charles Lyell 
admits the presence of an under current at times in the 
Straits, but thinks that more recent observations show it 
to be merely tidal. 

The exceptional warmth of the Mediterranean exercises, 
as we have seen, an influence on the climate, which it 
modifies favourably. It also exercises a remarkable in- 
fluence on the finny tribes that inhabit it. 

As Lieut. Maury states, the cold oceans and seas are 
those in which fish, whatever the cause, especially good 
edible fish, thrive the most, and are the most prolific. The 
cod, the mackerel, the herring, the sole, the salmon, all 
belong to northern latitudes. Fish are abundant and good 
on the north coast of America, east and west, and on the 
north coast of Europe. The shoals of herrings, mackerel, 
pilchards, cod, that visit our seas every year, all come from 
the north, and return to it. Between the Gulf Stream, as 
it ascends the Atlantic from the Gulf of Florida, and the 
coast of the United States, there is a band or wedge of 
water, descending from the north, which is many degrees 
colder than the ascending waters of the Gulf Stream itself. 
This band of cold water is full of good edible fish, whereas 
the warmer waters of the Gulf Stream contain compara- 
tively few fish, and those not good. In the tropics, and in 
warmer seas also, the fish are neither so good nor so nume- 
rous, although more brilliant and fantastic in colour and 
shape. The Mediterranean is no exception to this rule, as 
I can testify from considerable experience. The fish it 
contains are, in general, neither good nor abundant, which 
accounts for the Roman Catholic inhabitants of its shores 
consuming so large a quantity of the product of the herring 
and cod fisheries of Northern Europe. 

At Mentone the great depth of the sea at a short dis- 
tance from the shore is no doubt an additional drawback, 
as verv deep waters are neither favourable to the breeding of 

K '2 



132 THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

fish, nor are they good fishing-grounds. Our Lest fishing- 
grounds are all shoal sandbanks, as, for instance, the Dogger 
Bank, and that of Newfoundland. 

On a fine day, when the sea is calm, the Mentone fisher- 
men are on the alert betimes, and the bay is studded with 
boats. A very close-meshed bag net is thrown out and 
buoyed, and then dragged in shore by long ropes, with 
great excitement on the part of those engaged. There are 
often ten or twelve men, women, and children to each net. 
When at last, however, it is drawn in, and its contents are 
scattered on the beach, these efforts recall the fable of the 
mountain in labour. There is seldom anything in the bag 
but a few pounds' weight of a small transparent whitebait 
kind offish, a few sardines and small red mullets, some dimi- 
nutive sword-fish, and two or three crabs the size of a five- 
shilling piece, that have not been able to get out of the way. 

When the nets are drawn, and their living contents are 
strewn on the shore, the young, and I may say not un- 
frequently the old, are seized with an ardent desire to save 
some of the struggling inmates of the deep, or in other 
words, to establish an aquarium. Basins, tubs, all kinds of 
utensils are enlisted in their behalf, but I am sorry to add 
with but very little success. The small flat fish, sardines, 
sword-fish, the shrimps, after darting about furiously for 
some hours, vainly endeavouring to escape from their prison, 
turn on their side and die. They really appear to die from 
nervous exhaustion, for it cannot be for want of aerated, 
water, as the same result is observed when either a large or 
small vessel is used. I find that Mr. Philip Gosse, the 
charming naturalist, also takes this view of the early death 
of marine animals thus suddenly confined. He strikingly 
remarks, " It is as if a man, shut up beneath the dome of 
St. PauFs, should be found dead by daylight for want of 
air to breathe. Are the gills of an anneloid or a mollusc 
more exacting than the lungs of a man ?" 

The small-meshed nets must be very destructive to young 
fish, and as they are everywhere used on the Mediterranean 
coast, they must tend to render its waters even more un- 
productive than Nature intended. The fishermen on these 
shores maintain, as did our own fishermen with reference 



FISH — WHITEBAIT. 133 

to whitebait, that the small transparent fish they catch in 
such numbers are a separate species that never grow any 
larger, and which it is, consequently, legitimate to destroy 
for food. To settle this question, I brought some home, 
preserved in spirits of wine, and submitted them to the 
well-known ichthyologist, Dr. A. Gtinther, of the British 
Museum. After careful examination, Dr. Giinther wrote 
me as follows : — " There can be no doubt that the specimens 
you have submitted to me for examination are the young 
fry of some species of Cltqjea, and from the position of the 
vertebral fins, and the number of vertebrae, I believe them 
to be the young of Clupea Sprattus, or a species closely allied 
to it." Dr. Giinther has satisfactorily established that our 
whitebait are the young fry of the herring, so that both on 
our shores and on the Mediterranean the wholesale destruc- 
tion of these small fish is equally unjustifiable. 

The French Government, which has paid great attention, 
during the last few years, to pisciculture, to the replenish- 
ment both of its salt and fresh waters with fish, has become 
alive to this fact. A commission has recently been ap- 
pointed to inquire into the condition of the fisheries on the 
northern shore of the Mediterranean, with a view to their 
improvement ; and the probable result of its labours will be 
a prohibition of the use of these small-meshed nets — a very 
necessary step. They unquestionably tend to destroy the 
fisheries wherever used, by annihilating the small fry on 
the shallows. Unless some such measure is adopted, fish 
must all but disappear from this part of the Mediterranean 
shores, stimulated as their destruction is by the presence of 
wealthy fish-eating strangers. A few years ago the small 
fry, like whitebait, were sold at Mentone for four sous 
(twopence) a pound; the larger for eight sous. Now the 
small fetch twenty, and the larger thirty. 

Wherever I have been, in "Corsica, in Italy, in Sicily, I 
have always found the local fishermen, and many better 
informed persons, pertinaciously maintain that these small 
fish are not the spawn of larger fish, but a peculiar species 
that always remains small, and that were these nets not 
allowed a valuable kind of food would be lost to all classes 
of society. We have seen that such is not the case, and it 



134 THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

is to be hoped that their destruction will be legally pre- 
vented. 

The gentle art is cultivated at Mentone by many zealous 
native piscatorians, who may be seen day alter day fishing 
from the parapet of the quay at the entrance of the town, 
from rocks lying in the sea, or from the shore. Some of 
the visitors also, inspired by their example, occasionally 
enter the lists. Their patience and skill, however, meet 
with but a poor reward, as might be anticipated from what 
has been stated. Their principal recompense appears to be 
the lazy enjoyment of the harmonies of nature so dear to 
all who love "the contemplative man's recreation." The 
melody of the waves breaking at our feet, the surging of 
the blue waters over the seaweed covering the submarine 
rocks, the varied hues that the fuci assume, as they are 
alternately expanded, buoyed up by the coming wave, and 
then left high and dry as it retreats, the effects of the ever- 
varying cloud, shadow, and sunlight on the sea, the rocks, 
the mountains, and the horizon, are never better observed, 
or more thoroughly appreciated, than by the unsuccessful 
angler. Very little piscatorial success satisfies the true 
lover of nature, and such nearly all enthusiastic pisca- 
torians are. This love of nature is, I believe, the key to 
their oft-abused pastime. In the. educated it is felt and 
analjsed, in the uneducated it exists as an instinct, a 
sensation, but is not analysed. 

Cuttle-fish are abundant in these waters, and are eaten 
by the inhabitants as a delicacy. They are occasionally 
found of enormous size. I have seen a monster, at least 
six feet in length, with villanous-looking tentacula several 
feet long. Such antagonists would be very formidable 
even to a strong swimmer, if they attacked him. They 
could easily surround him with their suckers, and perhaps 
pull him under water; but I have not heard of any such 
accident. Monstrous cuttle-fish, with shells twelve feet 
in circumference, characterized the warm seas of the chalk 
period and of the epoch in which the nummulites of the 
St. Louis rocks existed, Even now, in tropical seas, there 
are cuttle-fish of enormous size. Well authenticated tales 
are told of tentacula as thick as a man's arm, thrown by 






CTTTTLE-FISH — DEVIL-FISH. 135 

cuttle-fish like those of yore over the sides of a boat in these 
regions, and dragging seamen overboard, or upsetting large 
boats. These " strange fish" have long ago died out in 
the Mediterranean, but probably those I have seen are 
their lineal but degenerate descendants. The small and 
beautiful nautilus is still alive, although it, too, lived in 
these remote days along with its awful companion. 

The fishing for cuttle-fish is one of the features of these 
shores. The boat is rowed gently along the shallow parts 
of the bay, where the rocks are covered with seaweed. In 
the prow sits the fisherman, holding a long stick, to which 
is tied a piece of meat as bait, partially covered with a few 
green twigs. This perch is poked among the seaweed, 
under the rocks and stones, in likely places. If the cuttle- 
fish is there he makes a clutch at the bait, and clings to it 
with such extreme tenacity that he is easily hauled into the 
boat. At night fishing is often carried on by means of a 
fire lighted in a kind of metal basket suspended over the 
prow of the boat. The fisherman uses a two or three 
pronged lance. He leans over the side of the boat and ex- 
plores the bottom of the sea, by the glare of the fire, as the 
boat glides gently along. If a fish is seen many feet 
under the water the trident is thrown with all but unerring 
accuracy, and the fish is brought up wriggling on its teeth. 
This night-fishing has a picturesque effect as seen from the 
shore. It is also practised on the Italian lakes. 

There is an interesting fact connected with the Medi- 
terranean that is but little known, even by the scientific 
world. This sea is the favourite habitation, the home, of 
one of the largest and most singular fish that inhabit the 
wilderness of waters, the devil-fish. The devil-fish is a 
species of monstrous hideous ray or flounder, fiat, broad, of 
enormous dimensions, and of extraordinary muscular power, 
with a huge mouth and stomach, all one, in the front of its 
misshapen head. It inhabits the tropical seas, the broad 
Atlantic, as well as the Mediterranean, and is everywhere 
an object of curiosity and awe, when seen or caught, 
which it very rarely is. The African traveller, Le Vaillant, 
caught one twenty-five feet long in the body, and thirty- 
feet wide in the tins, on one of his journeys to Africa, 



136 THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

Other travellers have seen them floundering on the surface 
of the sea, apparently as large as the vessel they were in. 
Two were caught at Villefranche, near Nice, in 1807, in 
one of the tunny nets, and have been minutely described 
by Risso, the learned Nice naturalist, under the name of 
" Cephaloptera Massena." The one first caught, a female, 
weighed 1328 pounds ; it moaned piteously. The male was 
seen for two days to hover round the nets where she w T as 
taken, searching for its mate, and then was taken in the 
same net ! The poor loving devil-fish were thus united in 
death. The male was smaller, weighing 885 pounds only. 




THE DEVIL-MSH. 



The Mediterranean fishermen are acquainted with the 
devil-fish traditionally, calling it vacca. They believe that 
its appearance is an omen, and portends disaster. A small 
species is not uncommon in the West Indies, and is some- 
times pursued, but rarely taken, in Kingston harbour, 
Jamaica, according to the Hon. R. Hill, who has published 
a very interesting account of this curious fish {Intellectual 
Observer, October, 1862). The drawing given is copied 
from this article. When one of these fish is observed 
floating on the water, the mode of attack is to harpoon it. 
The monster immediately strikes out for the sea, with 
amazing velocity and power, towing its enemy along with 
it. Other boats attach themselves to the first, and they 
are all towed out, generally for several miles, before it again 
rises Indeed, they are frequently obliged to abandon the 
chase altogether. 

Often, when, steeped in the southern winter sunshine, 
I lie in my favourite leisure haunts, among the St. Louis 
rocks, gazing at the Mediterranean, in one of its calm, 



THE TUNNY. 137 

placid moments, I think of these monsters and repeat to 
myself the harmonious verses of Mrs. Hemans : 

" What hidest thou in thy treasure-caves and cells, 
Thou ever- sounding and mysterious sea." 

Perhaps at that very moment some of these monstrous 
antediluvian fish are disporting themselves in the deep 
waters at my feet ; for it is not in the very deepest regions 
that even the largest fish can and do live. In the great 
depths of the sea, so marvellously reached of late, there 
is little if any light, and only the most rudimentary kind 
of life. The sound often brings up microscopic shells un- 
damaged in their delicate structure by friction. Tney have 
fallen there through the water, and there they remain 
motionless. The dead sailor, who is thrown over the side 
of the vessel, with a cannon-shot attached to his feet, 
descends to these depths, there probably to remain, standing 
erect, preserved by the pressure of the water, until the Day 
of Judgment. 

As spring advances some of the fish, which then descend 
in such enormous shoals from the Northern seas into the 
Atlantic, find their way into the Mediterranean, through 
the Straits of Gibraltar, and are very welcome. Thus, 
very large mackerel and whiting are caught in great 
numbers, and a large and much valued fish, the tunny, 
makes its appearance. 

" The tunny or tliynnus is a fish which belongs to the 
genus mackerel, scomber, which it resembles in form. It 
grows to more than seven feet in length, and often weighs 
as much as four hundred weight. - " 

After passing the Straits in dense masses, the tunny 
skirts the coasts of Spain, France, and Italy, to spawn in 
the Black Sea. It visits the smallest bays and coves, 
which renders its capture feasible — indeed, easy. Large 
and strong nets are fastened by cables and anchors, at 
the entrance of the bay where they are expected, and a 
sentinel is posted on some eminence to watch for their 
advent. When they are seen approaching along the coast, 
the fishermen get ready, and us soou as the fish have 



138 THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

entered, they close the nets around or behind them, The 
poor fish are then slaughtered with lance and knife, the 
sea being reddened with their blood. As we have stated, 
their flesh, although not very delicate, is still much appre- 
ciated by southerners. 

The tunny reach Mentone in early spring, and about 
the middle of April may be seen in the eastern bay, off 
Cnp Martin, the preparations being made for their advent. 
These preparations are on rather a small scale, and consist 
merely of three or four boats, a long net in the water, and 
the look-out, perched on a kind of platform raised some 
thirty feet high on the shore. 

In some parts of the coast of Italy, Sardinia, and Sicily 
large nets, called madrigues, half a mile or a mile long, are 
used in fishing for the tunny. These nets, which are divided 
into chambers by cross nets, are sunk in deep water, at 
some distance from the shore. The tunnies, which follow 
the coast in a shoal, pass between it and the net, and on 
reaching the extremity of the latter are arrested in their 
progress by a cross net. They then turn, and are driven 
into the chambers of the large net by the fishermen, where 
tiiey are destroyed, as described, by hundreds, in favourable 
years. The sport is stated to be very exciting ; but, un- 
fortunately, it takes place in the month of May or early in 
June, when health tourists have already taken flight to the 
north. 

The tunny is not only allied to the mackerel, but also to 
the bonito, a beautiful tropical fish of a lovely blue colour. 
The bonito, although a tropical fish, is represented in the 
Mediterranean by a distinct and equally beautiful species, 
the Pelami/s Sarda, the length of which is from twenty to 
thirty inches. 

Whales not unfrequently pass into the Mediterranean 
through the Straits of Gibraltar, for a stately promenade 
or '•'swim/ - ' On one of my excursions to Corsica we met 
one when out of sight of land. The steamer passed very 
near him, and he indulged us with, a splendid spout. The 
French sailors called the whale " un souffleur" (a blower), 
and he well deserved the term. 

Porpoises are numerous, and as amusing in their gambols, 



A naturalist's preserve. 139 

leaps, and unwieldy gyrations, as in the northern seas. 
They constantly come in shore. On one occasion we met 
with a shoal out at sea, evidently on frolic intent ; they 
were apparently pursuing each other, like boys at leap-frog-. 
Regardless of our presence, they kept springing out of the 
water, with a kind of flying leap. Sometimes half-a-dozen 
would be in the air at a time, all in a line. They passed 
our bows, and then were soon out of sight, as our courses 
diverged. 

If, on a calm fine day, a height of some hundred feet or 
more is attained above the shore, and the surface of the sea 
is carefully examined, it will be seen to present ribbons, as 
it were, of water of different colours, lighter and darker. 
These ribbons describe all kinds of irregular liquid paths 
and sinuosities in the bay, and for a mile or two from the 
shore. They are varying marine currents, the cause of 
which it is difficult to determine. Inequalities of surface 
at the bottom, differences of temperature, winds, all, no 
doubt, contribute to produce them. They illustrate on the 
surface of a calm sea the deeper and more powerful currents 
which play so important a part in the history of the great 
oceans. 

These currents are the preserve, the delight of the marine 
naturalist, a fact but little known. I was introduced to 
them by Professor Pagenstecher, of Heidelberg, a well- 
known and enthusiastic naturalist, who came to Mentone 
two springs purposely to study its marine zoology. It 
seems that the currents draw into their course all the 
vegetable or animal detritus floating at the surface of the 
sea where they pass. The presence of these te elements of 
nutrition" attracts animalculae and the smaller inhabitants 
of the deep. They, in turn, attract the larger molluscs, and 
thus these currents become a kind of naturalists' cover, 
where the inhabitants of marine depths inaccessible to 
dredging are found in abundance. 

The best time for this kind of fishing is early in the 
morning, at sunrise. The boat should start from the shore 
just as the sun appears on the eastern horizon, so that the 
current or fishing ground, previously determined on, is 
gained as the sun's rays illuminate the depths of the sea — 



140 THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

" And now the purple clouds 
Rise like a mountain ; now the sari looks out, 
Filling, o'erflowing with his glorious light 
The noble amphitheatre of hills." — Rogers. 

All animated nature becomes endued with fresh life, an 
universal desire for food is felt, and the briny paths are 
soon crowded with voracious customers. 

The fishing is carried on by means of two nets, like 
butterfly nets, only larger, fastened to stout sticks. One is 
of good size and stout texture, the other smaller, and of 
more delicate material. They are held out, four-fifths 
immersed in the water, from the side of the boat, the 
concavity turned in the direction the boat is going, and of 
course catch everything in their way. There should also be 
several jars of sea-water in the boat, ready for use. Every 
now and then the smaller and more delicate net should be 
taken in, the water allowed to escape from the bag end, 
and then the bag itself turned inside out into one of the glass 
jars of sea-water. Although the eye may detect nothing 
on looking at the water from above, if the jar is lifted up 
and the observer looks c< through" it, he will generally 
see, by transmitted light, many very singular forms of 
marine life, which the net has caught disporting on the 
surface of the sea, but which are quite invisible to the eye 
from above. The same plan may be followed with the 
larger net, but it is more especially intended to catch the 
larger molluscs and zoophytes, which the eye distinctly 
perceives swimming or floating in the current. I thus 
became acquainted, thanks to the Professor, with many 
very singular and beautiful forms of life, and was highly 
delighted with this new mode of fishing. To him I owe the 
following notes of what we found : — 

In these currents will be found a great number of small 
crustaceans called Copepodes, of a white, orange, or red 
colour, which seem to rest on their antennse; JSaphirines, 
which, rising and falling, look like a precious stone or a 
drop of dew, and sparkle like a flower ; marvellous larva?, 
Asterias and Ursins, which, with the friskiness of youth, 
are taking an excursion in deep waters, whilst the father 
and mother are concealed amongst the rocks in quiet bays ; 



A NATURALISTS PRESERVE. 141 

Radiolariae, gelatinous balls like chains of frog's eggs, 
punctuated with blue and yellow, and presenting micro- 
scopic --pikes of silex of most elegant shapes; small Ptero- 
podes, which, protected by a calcareous box, and supplied 
with two wings, swim about in the warm waters like flies 
and butterflies in the air. The glass jar into which the net 
is turned and washed is soon filled with these members of 
the microscopic world, and to a naturalist they give days 
of study, pleasure, and information. 

When the larger net is used a sharp eye must be cast on 
the waters near the boat, as it is only intended to catch 
the Molluscs and Zoophytes, which are perceived swimming 
or floating in the current. The observer will probably soon 
discover chains of Salpa, either the gigantic form, Salpa 
Africana maxima, with its nucleus of a Sienna brown 
colour, or the more delicate species named " democratica 
maxima/'' coloured in ultramarine. Sometimes more than a 
hundred individuals are united in a chain several feet long. 
This is a singular genus, in which the mother gives birth 
to one daughter very different from herself. This daughter, 
in her turn, produces hundreds of children united like the 
Siamese twins, but each like the grandmother. At first 
they are all united, and form chains and rings on the sur- 
face of the sea, but one after the other, as their turn to 
reproduce the race arrives, separate from the rest, and give 
up the dances and pastimes of youth for the more serious 
duties of life. 

Among the treasure trove will be jelly fishes, belonging 
to the family of Gorgonides, which even in the jar try to 
catch some small fry,' as likewise Ctenophores, esppcially 
the Beroe ovata, a real crystal cucumber, the Eucharis 
multicornis, which, rose or yellow tinged, seems as it passes 
under the bark to be merely a reflection of the full moon, 
and is not much more solid; the girdle of Venus, which, 
gliding serpent-like in the waves, is nearly invisible, although 
three feet in length. When seen, its edges present all the 
colours of the rainbow, owing to the vibration of ciliary 
hairs. 

If the day is a favourable one, the " fisherman" will 
probably secure a Siphonophora, a swimming polymor- 



142 THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

phous colony, generally upheld by a small bladder full of 
air, provided with a column of bells wherewith to swim, 
and carrying below a crowd of polyps armed with urtieant 
filaments, opening their mouths on all sides like a poly- 
cephal Hydra; the Praga cymbiformis ; the Hippopodius 
luteus; the Abyla pentagona; the Diphyes acuminata; 
the Farkalsa cystrima, but for the latter will be required 
the largest jar, which one colony will fill to the brim ; the 
Phromima sedentaria, a crustacean which preserves its 
children carefully in a cradle of crystal taken from the 
very substance of some gelatinous animal ; the large 
Firoles, called by the Mediterranean fishermen ll olifante 
di mare ;" lastly, the Cymbulia Perosisi, which conceals 
its soft body in a slipper of crystal, a slipper that recalls 
the one Cinderella wore. It is one of the most elegant 
objects imaginable, and for its sake alone the ladies at 
home who are anxiously waiting the leturn of the " foolish 
fishermen," will pardon the disturbance created by the 
departure before break of day. 

Professor Pagenstecher was very successful, he told me, 
during the few weeks he spent with us, and returned to 
Heidelberg laden with numerous scientific treasures, and a 
very happy man. 

I may remark that I have never known an unhappy, 
misanthropical naturalist. As a class, I think they are 
truly the happiest and most contented of men. Constant 
communion with nature draws their thoughts from the 
cares, the anxieties, the heartaches, the passions of life, and 
thereby purifies and elevates their minds ; whilst every 
advance in knowledge, every discovery made, increases the 
admiration, the reverence felt for the Divine Author of all 
things, who has so marvellously organized everything for 
the best. 

All who sail on or live near the Mediterranean notice 
the peculiar blueness of its waters. This tinge would seem 
to imply that they contain more salt than the waters of the 
ocean. The more salt held in solution by water, the bluer 
it is ; the less salt, the greener it is. Hence the light 
green hue of the Polar seas, which contain much more 
fresh water than those of the tropics. The latter are gene- 



ITS BLUE COLOUR. 143 

rally, from this cause, of a deep indigo, like the Mediter- 
ranean. The evaporation from the surface of the Medi- 
terranean abstracts a much greater quantity of water than 
its rivers supply. Hence the strong current that sets in 
from the ocean at Gibraltar, and also, no doubt, the blue 
tinge of its saliue waters. 

The correctness of the above views has been questioned. 
I would, however, refer those who doubt to the first three 
paragraphs of Lieutenant Maury's very valuable work on 
" The Physical Geography of the Sea." It is to this really 
fascinating book that I am indebted for the explanation I 
have given of the peculiar indigo blue colour of the Medi- 
terranean. It may be considered proved, he states, by facts 
derived from other regions of the world's waters, and by 
actual experiments. 

The Gulf Stream, which comes from the tropics, from 
the Gulf of Mexico, where the heat is extreme and evapo- 
ration very great, is of a deep blue colour, like the Medi- 
terranean. This colour is so different from that of the 
surrounding ocean that the line of demarcation is observed 
with ease, and in calm weather half of the ship may be 
seen in the Gulf Stream and half out. Analysed by Dr. 
Thomassy, by means of a delicate instrument, the salt has 
been found to be 4 per cent, in the blue Gulf Stream, 
opposite Charleston ; 4 T V per cent, in the blue trade-wind 
region ; whereas it was only 3| per cent, in the greener 
waters of the Bay of Biscay. Again, in the salt-works on 
the shores of the Adriatic and of France, the vats or pools 
into which the sea-water is received for evaporation 
exemplify the fact. After stauding some time in one pool, 
for the purpose of evaporation, the concentrated sea- water 
is passed into another, and so on. As it becomes more 
and more loaded with salt the colour gradually changes 
from light to deep blue, to indigo, and finally to a reddish 
tint when crystallization is about to commence. " The 
salt-makers judge of the richness of the sea-water in salt 
by its colour; the greener the hue the fresher the water.'" 

The colour of the waters of glacier streams, of the Swiss 
lakes, or of the Rhine at Bale, is quite a different hue to 
that of the Mediterranean. It is a kind of light bluish 



144 THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

green, and is evidently owing to some other physical 
cause. 

In describing the natural features of the Mentonian 
amphitheatre, I must not omit to mention, that its olive 
and pine woods are alive with feathered songsters. The 
notes of some are very musical, and those of others re- 
produce sounds familiarly heard in the summer in our own 
pine forests in England. The same cannot be said of the 
small green tree-frogs that scramble about on the branches 
of the Olive-trees, or of their larger brothers that live in or 
near the tanks. In winter they are, fortunately, silent ; 
but as spring arrives, they commence every evening an 
endless chorus, which lasts until after daylight, much to 
the dismay and distress of those who live in their neigh- 
bourhood. They certainly more than compensate for the 
nightingale, which arrives, as with us, early in May, and 
warbles all night long in every tree. Many of the birds 
are winter emigrants from the north, like ourselves in 
search of a southern sun. Others in spring make a more 
or less extended sojourn on the North Mediterranean coast 
on their return from more southern regions. The olives 
and pine cones afford them abundant food. 

On the sea, near the shore, are constantly seen troops of 
sea-gulls, attracted by the household refuse which the 
inhabitants are rather too prone to cast over the sea-wall 
into the salt water. When wind and storm are looming 
on the horizon they are more especially numerous, some- 
times congregating in flocks of several hundred. They 
generally swim about on the waves near the shore, and 
look very picturesque when present in such numbers. Sea- 
gulls are interesting birds in more ways than one. When 
riding on the waters they have more than the usual grace 
and elegance of aquatic birds, and when soaring aloft, all 
but motionless, or describing eddying circles, the strength 
and smoothness of their flight, and their perfect self-pos- 
session, are pleasant to behold. Sea-gulls appear to soon 
become familiar with man in the pursuit of food, and a 
truly remarkable feature in their history is the pertinacity 
with which they follow vessels, especially steamers, for the 
sake of the offal thrown overboard. In the Mediterranean 



SEA-GTTLLS — SWALLOWS. 145 

they lie in wait off the ports, and a chosen band starts 
with nearly every steamer, and follows it, fair weather or 
foul, to its destination. They have thus accompanied me 
on most of my longer Mediterranean excursions, such as 
from Corsica to Marseilles, from Messina to Marseilles. 
On the latter voyage a troop of eight joined us as we left 
the port of Messina, and were flying about us for three 
nights and two days, apparently ever on the wing. 
Whenever I was on deck they were there, not merely fol- 
lowing the vessel, but leisurely flying in circles half a mile 
in advance of us, or a mile or two behind. Bits of bread 
thrown into the sea brought them all to us in a few 
seconds. Their wonderfully acute sight at once detected 
the prize, when they would descend from a great height, 
like an arrow, and pounce on the smallest morsel floating 
in the foaming furrow traced by the vessel. The captain 
said that they knew the track of the Mediterranean 
steamers as well as the oldest pilots. I have been told 
that they follow in the same way the steamers from New 
York to Europe for ten days and more. They probably 
rest and sleep occasionally on the bosom of the sea, and 
afterwards overtake the ship by their rapid flight. 

The martins or swallows, as I have stated, never aban- 
don the sheltered ravines and sun-heated rocky mountains of 
the Pont St. Louis throughout the winter, finding sufficient 
insect life to maintain them. Although in an exceptionally 
warm and sheltered nook like these rocks they may thus 
remain, the general swallow population migrates from the 
Riviera as it does from more northern countries, crossing 
the Mediterranean to Africa. It is not really known where 
they finally go in mid-winter. Probably they keep moving 
south as winter advances. In Algeria they are not more 
stationary than in southern Europe, going south, into the 
desert when winter, cold, and rain sets in; unless it be in 
some exceptionally sheltered nook, such as the Gorge of 
Chiffa. There I was told that they remained all winter, 
as at the St. Louis rocks at Mentoue, keeping company 
with the monkeys, of which, however, we cannot boast. 
Some travellers speak of seeing them in Senegal in mid- 
winter, and Herodotus, twenty-three centuries ago, states 

L 



146 THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

that swallows are found throughout the year at the sources 
of the Nile. As he certainly had not visited the Nile head, 
a glory reserved to our countrymen in recent days, he must 
have had the same hazy notion of what becomes of swallows 
in winter that we have. 

The presence of the martins attracts hawks and occasion- 
ally the majestic eagle from the adjoining Alpine regions. 
1 have often lain, in mid-winter, for hours among the rocks 
at St. Louis, high above the blue vessel-clotted sea, with 
the wild Thyme, the Rosemary, and the Cneorum in full 
flower around me, watching their movements. As they 
gain confidence they resume their rapid flight in and out of 
the rocks, chasing the insects as on a fine English summer 
evening. Suddenly a noble hawk, occasionally a majestic 
Alpine eagle, appears, soaring aloft with wide-stretched 
pinions. The poor martins, stricken with fear, instantly 
seek a refuge, and in a few seconds disappear from the gaze 
of their ruthless pursuer. Sweeping from one rock to the 
other, he seems to enjoy the confusion and solitude he has 
created, and remains "the monarch of all he surveys." 

My friend Mr. Traherne Moggridge, author of the work 
I have mentioned, " The Flora of Mentone," who has 
made the ornithology of the Riviera a study, tells me 
that the rock Martin swallow does not visit England 
in the summer, although it ascends quite as far north, in 
an easterly direction. Like many other summer migrants 
•from the south, it takes a north-easterly course. The rock 
Martin is the sole member of the swallow genus that 
winters in Europe, and that only in a few warm sheltered 
localities, such as Gibraltar, Mentone, and the coast of 
Greece. Mr. T. Moggridge says that he has noticed other 
birds of passage during the winter at Mentone, such as the 
black Redstart and the Willow Wren. In company with 
these birds, although of very different habits, he has ob- 
served the beautiful Rock Creeper (Tichodroma saxaiilis), a 
relative of the Tree Creeper of our woods. Like this latter 
bird, it is rarely seen on the wing, but creeps up steep and 
apparently impracticable surfaces of rock, with a jerking 
motion and slight spasmodic expansion of the wing, dipping 
its long bill into the crevices of the rock as it ascends. 






BIRDS — HUMMING BIRD MOTH. 147 

The body is of a mouse grey, but the upper part of the 
nearly black wing* is of a fine crimson colour, and there is 
a row of white spots on the quill feathers. The Pont St. 
Louis rocks are a favourite resort of this very interesting 
bird, but no doubt it may be seen on other points of the 
coast. Thus it has been noticed near the railway tunnels 
through the rocks on the road between Finale and Genoa; 
it is well known in Italy and Spain. 

One of the ornaments of the flower garden in autumn, 
and a constant visitor to our rooms in winter, is the hum- 
ming bird hawk moth {Macroglossa stellatarum). It is a 
large brown moth, with a mouse-like body and head, bril- 
liant eyes, small wings, and a tongue an inch or two in 
length, usually curled up proboscis shape. It has the power 
to dart this tongue, with instantaneous rapidity, into the 
corolla of flowers, to rifle them of the nectar on which it 
feeds. When hovering over flowers I am told that it 
thoroughly resembles the humming bird of tropical 
countries, whence its name. These moths are occasionally 
seen in warm summer weather in England. They are no 
doubt driven into the houses by the increasing cold of the 
nights. They are really pretty creatures, and I have often 
had several in the drawing-room for days together, hovering 
over cut flowers, darting their tongue in and out of the 
corollas, and feeding on their sweets. 

The St. Louis rocks rise all but perpendicularly from the 
sea, on the eastern side of the eastern bay, the Genoa road 
being blasted from their flanks. They present, near the 
shore, a deep, irregular, and picturesque cleft or ravine, 
occupied by a watercourse which falls as a cascade from a 
considerable height. The road crosses this ravine by a bold 
and elegant bridge of one arch, which is now the frontier 
between France and Italy. Masses of rock, irregularly 
divided and worn by the convulsions of nature, and. by the 
action of water and weather, form the boundaries of the 
ravine. They are partly naked, partly clothed with moun- 
tain plants, Lentiscus bushes, Thyme, the Cneorum, 
Valerian, Cytisus, Coronilla, and Bluebell. These rocks are 
continuous with the ridge that ascends to the Berceau, one 
of the high mountains of the Mentonian amphitheatre 

l £ 



148 THE MEDITERRANEAN, 

(3850 feet). A few hundred feet above the sea line 
the scene becomes very wild and grand. The mountain 
assumes the form of a fantastic mass of huge rocks and 
stones. In one region they form a species of stony torrent, 
arrested in its rapid descent ; in another they are piled one 
over the other in every conceivable shape. It is the wild- 
ness and naked stony confusion of a mountain summit, 
within a few hundred feet of the sea-level. 

On the eastern side of the St. Louis ravine, lying on the 
side of the mountain, seven hundred feet above the sea, is 
a very picturesque, grey-looking village, Grimaldi by name. 
It is seen from the town and the eastern bay, warming 
itself in the sun, and is generally rendered conspicuous by 
patches of white which surround it ; this is the linen of 
the inhabitants, lying on the mountain to dry. On the left 
side of the Genoa road, which winds above the shore blasted 
out of the solid limestone rocks, below the village, is an old 
ruined mediaeval castellated tower, which formerly belonged 
to the Counts of Grimaldi. It was built either to protect 
the coast and the town from the attacks of' the roving 
Moors and Saracens a thousand years ago, or by the latter 
when they were masters of the country. It is known by 
the name of the Grimaldi or Saracen tower, and it is from a 
small watch turret near it that is taken the very truthful 
view of the Mentone amphitheatre reproduced in the frontis- 
piece.^ This is one of the most sheltered spots that can be 
found in the entire district, and the view from it is certainly 
one of the most complete and most lovely. It is here that 
I have established my winter garden. With a view to the 
cultivation of flowers and to the tranquil enjoyment of 
" invalid lazarone life" in hours of leisure, I have become, 
as already stated, the happy proprietor of the old tower, of 
the smiling sunny terraces that adjoin it, and of a consider- 
able extent of the rocky mountain side. 

At the bottom of the picturesque ravine, which is crossed 
by the bold St. Louis bridge, there is a watercourse, that is 
made to irrigate and fertilize all the terraces to which it can 
be diverted. Indeed, the groves of Lemon trees which 
cover the mountain side before we reach the St. Louis 
ravine owe their existence to its waters. In the lower part of 



^w 




THE ST. LOUIS ROCKS. 149 

the ravine there is an aqueduct on arches, which tradition 
says was built in the time of the Romans. Several hundred 
feet higher there is a small water canal, scooped out of the 
rock, which descends from the upper part of the ravine. As 
it is a short cut from the village of Grimaldi to Mentone, 
the villagers constantly make use of it, although there is 
scarcely foot-room for one person, and the precipice is 
immediately at the side. In one part the aqueduct is so 
much in a hollow of the rock that there is scarcely room to 
pass upright. A tale is told of a young girl who all her 
life had blithely and fearlessly traversed this path. She got 
married, had a baby, and carried the cradle on her head, as 
is the custom of the peasants in this country. One day she 
took the familiar road, with the cradle in the usual position, 
forgot the rock above, struck against it, and was dashed 
over the precipice with her child. 

On the western side of the St. Louis ravine are the 
" warm terraces/' as I have named them, the warmest 
region of Mentone. On the rocky mountain slope the 
owners have scooped out and built a series of terraces, which 
have been entirely planted with Lemon-trees. These 
trees owe their existence entirely to the streamlet which 
has been diverted from the ravine watercourse, and which 
irrigates the terraces, filling large tanks for summer use. 
Sheltered on every side except the south and south-west, 
saturated with sunshine from early morning to evening, 
the rock and soil never cool, and cold and frost are unknown, 
even on exceptional cold days. Thus they constitute a 
natural hotbed, where vegetation is always in advance, 
where winter is unknown, and where invalids may safely 
while away the day in the coldest weather. 

The stranger wandering among the rocks above these 
terraces may accidentally come across a small black metal 
cross. This cross commemorates a painful catastrophe that 
occurred some years ago. A sprightly English girl of ten, 
whose parents occupied the villa below, escaped with a 
younger sister from their governess, and, in light-hearted 
play, scrambled up the rocks. Having reached this wild 
region, the elder one climbed upon a peak to wave her 
handkerchief in recognition to a friend below, Unforfeu- 



150 the mediterranean; 

nately she lost her footing", fell head -foremost, and was killed 
on the spot. There was universal mourning for the sad fate 
of the fair English child on the part of the kind-hearted 
Mentonians, and even now the fearful accident is never 
mentioned without deep sympathy for the bereaved parents. 

The b.ach underneath and beyond the St. Louis ravine 
is singularly beautiful. The red limestone rocks, the red 
rocks, as they are generally called, ascend perpendicularly to a 
great height, and. the shore is merely formed of debris and of 
advancing buttresses of the same formation, worked by the 
waves into the most jagged, irregular, and fantastic shapes. 
"When there is a strong south-westerly gale blowing the 
waves are thrown on these rocks with extreme force, and 
are broken into foam and spray that rise, with a noise like 
thunder, to a great height. On one point there is a sub- 
terranean passage or tunnel, into which the sea is engulfed, 
to escape further on in the shape of a magnificent " jet 
cFeau/' The sight, in stormy weather, is very grand. 
The Bone caves are at the base of these red rocks, above the 
coast line. 

Along and on the shore rocks used to pass the road to 
Genoa, a mere mule track, as before stated. Remains of it 
still exist, and it constitutes one of the most picturesque 
and pleasant promenades. The view of Mentone and of 
its amphitheatre is very fine from this point. About half 
a mile* beyond the torrent that descends from the St. Louis 
ravine, the path passes along the shore over a gully, by a 
bridge of one arch, so thin and light that it is crossed for 
the first time with some apprehension. It is said to be of 
Roman construction, and, small as it is, seems worthy of 
such an origin. 

Some bold rocks which here rise out of the sea near the 
shore, and give the command of deep water, are the favourite 
haunt of anglers. I have tried my fortune, in a piscatory 
sense, but with very little success. Would not some 
plan of ground-baiting be likely to attract the finny tribe? 
The refuse which the townspeople throw into the sea, over 
the quay, at the entrance of the town, seems to have that 
effect ; a fact which accounts for the habitual presence of 
native anglers. I leave this question, however, to those 



OTIUM SINE DIGNITATE. \ 5 1 

more learned than myself in. the art. On these rocks is 
found the "samphire," which is not confined to the dizzy 
heights of Dover. The region is also a favourite habitat 
of the Cinerea maritima, and of the elegant Lavatera. 

A strong sea wall, and a broad foot causeway have been 
built along the shore of the eastern bay, from the town 
to the St. Louis rocks. Thus an admirable promenade, 
sheltered from the north-east, has been formed, most 
valuable to the invalids who inhabit the eastern bay. 

I would, however, warn all real invalids never to lounge 
or sit on the sea-beach unless there be a dead- calm. 
Generally speaking, when there is a perceptible sea-breeze, 
with rolling waves, it is dangerous. As previously ex- 
plained, although this breeze apparently comes from the 
south, it is often in reality a north wind deflected land- 
wards. As such it may produce a chill, and give rise to 
colds or sore-throats, or to even more serious mischief. I 
often feel inclined to stop my carriage, and philanthropi- 
cally to warn invalid strangers, whom I see sitting or 
lying on the beach in January or February, as if they were 
enjoying " othum sine dignitate" on our own shores in July 
or August. This leads me to remark that in our active, 
feverish modern civilization the old classic saying which 
I have quoted (awry) has ceased to be true. "Ease or 
leisure and dignity", no longer go together. Now, it must 
be ease without dignity, or dignity without ease. The two 
can no longer be combined. 



CHAPTER VI. 

THE CLIMATE OF THE GENOESE EIVIERA AND OF MENTONE 
CONSIDERED MEDICALLY. 

" Whoever wishes to investigate medicine properly, should 
proceed thus : in the first place to consider the seasons of the year, 
and what effects each of them produces : for they are not all alike, 
but differ much from themselves in regard to their changes." 

Hippocrates (On Airs, Waters, and Places). 

To appreciate the medical characteristics of the climate of 
the Genoese Riviera and of Mentone in general, it is only 
necessary to weigh the meteorological facts enunciated in 
a preceding chapter. 

A cool but sunny atmosphere, so dry that a fog is never 
seen at any period of the winter, either on sea or land, 
must be bracing, invigorating, stimulating. Such are the 
leading features of this region — the undercliff of central 
Europe. 

Behind the mountains which skirt the Riviera and the 
Mentonian amphitheatre, in midwinter, as we have seen, 
frost and snow may and often do extend up to the north 
pole, more than two thousand five hundred miles. On the 
other hand, the wind blows from the northern quarters 
during the greater part of the winter season. The air 
must, therefore, be cool, and would be cold, were it not 
warmed by an ardent sun, darting its rays through a cloud- 
less sky and a dry atmosphere — were it not. also, for the 
summer heat stored up in the rocks, and given out by them. 
These causes keep Mentone free from frost when it reigns 
all around, but cannot make it a tropical climate. There is 
no such climate on the shores and in the islands of the 
Mediterranean; there is no region in the Mediterranean 
basin free from the influence of the cold polar winds. 



THE RIVIERA MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 153 

Such a winter climate, however, is perfection for all who 
want bracing-, renovating — for the very young, the invalid 
middle-aged, and the very old, in whom vitality, defective 
or flagging, requires rousing and stimulating. It unites, 
indeed, all the conditions calculated to exercise a beneficial 
influence in any state of lowered vital power. 

The cool, but pleasant temperature, the stimulating in- 
fluence of the sunshine, the usual absence of rain or of 
continued rain, the moderate dryness of the air, render 
daily exercise out of doors both possible and agreeable. 
Indeed, in such a region life may be spent out of doors 
throughout all but the entire winter. Such an existence, 
in such conditions, has a direct tendency to create and to 
sustain the appetite, and to improve the digestive and 
nutritive functions. 

The pores of the skin, also, are kept permanently open, 
and thus the lungs are relieved of the extra burden which 
is always thrown upon them in northern climates, when the 
cold damp of winter supervenes. It is, indeed, because the 
functions of the skin, as an excretory organ and. as a purifier 
of the blood, are all but arrested by the cold in our climate, 
that sore-throat, influenza, bronchitis, and kidney diseases 
in general are so prevalent in winter, or existing, become so 
aggravated. The work of blood-purification, accomplished 
in warm weather by the skin, is thrown in winter on the 
mucous membranes of the lungs and air passages, and on 
the kidneys. These organs are congested, choked, as it 
were, and succumb to the extra work, the blood itself 
becoming poisoned by its deficient purification of worn out 
materials. Hence the colds or mucous membrane inflam- 
mations, and the fever that accompanies them, in the 
winter season of the north, as likewise various other forms 
of chest and kidney disease. Hence also the comparative 
immunity from these affections on the Riviera. 

I selected Mentone as my winter residence many years 
ago, because I was suffering from advanced pulmonary 
consumption. Many of the invalids who have followed 
my example have laboured under the same dire disease. 
That the choice was a rational one, will, I think, be 
generally admitted, on consideration of the facts above stated. 



154 THE KIVIERA AND MENTONE 

When I first arrived, there were scarcely any strangers, 
but since I have drawn the attention of my fellow prac- 
titioners to the value of this climate as a health resort 
in chest affections, the foreign population has yearly in- 
creased, and numbered last winter (1873-74) above sixteen 
hundred. It contains representatives of most European 
nations ; the English and French, however, have hitherto 
been the most numerous. Since the translation of this 
work into German (in 1863) many Germans have made it 
their winter abode. Our American cousins are also finding 
their way to Mentone in yearly increasing numbers, since 
the fourth edition was published in New York (1870). 

Phthisis is essentially a disease of debility. It prin- 
cipally attacks those who have received organizations de- 
ficient in vitality from their parents, or who have injured 
the vitality of an originally good constitution by excesses 
of any kind, or in whom such a constitution has been 
impaired by over work, or by hardships and privations 
independent of their own will. In such a disease — one 
dependent on defective vitality — a bracing, stimulating 
climate, such as I have described, must be beneficial, and 
has been most decidedly so, both in my own case and in 
those of the many whom I have attended. 

With the assistance of sunshine, a dry, bracing atmo- 
sphere, a mild temperature, and rational sthenic treatment, 
hygienic, dietetic, and medicinal, I have found pulmonary 
consumption in this favoured region, especially in its earlier 
stages, by no means the intractable disease that I formerly 
found it in London and Paris. After fifteen winters passed 
at Mentone, I am surrounded by a phalanx of cured or 
arrested consumption cases. This curative result has only 
been attained, in every instance, by rousing and improving 
the organic powers, and principally those of nutrition. If 
a consumptive patient can be improved in health, and thus 
brought to eat and sleep well, thoroughly digesting and 
assimilating food, the battle is half won ; and the principal 
benefit of the winter climate of the Riviera is the assistance 
it gives the physician in attaining this end. 

Amongst the consumptive patients I have attended, those 
who were in the early or even secondary stages of the 



MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 155 

disease, and had vitality and constitutional stamina left, 
have mostly done well. I have seen, in many young persons, 
well-marked crude tubercular deposits disappear, gradually 
absorbed. In various cases of accidental phthisis in middle- 
aged, over- worked men, the amelioration has been still more 
apparent. I have seen well-marked cavities become partly 
or entirely cicatrized, and the constitutional symptoms 
gradually subside ; the general health and strength steadily 
improving. For more extended information respecting the 
influences of the climate of the Riviera in pulmonary con- 
sumption I must refer to my special work on the subject."* 

I must, however, be allowed to state here that the fifteen 
years' experience I have had of pulmonary consumption in 
the south of Europe has led me to the conviction that 
there is a greater probability of the disease being arrested, 
of life being prolonged, and even of a cure being eventually 
effected if the patient can winter in the south than if he 
remains all winter in the north of Europe. I certainly 
have infinitely more confidence in and reliance on the value 
of a winter residence in the south than I had fifteen years 
ago, when I first left England for the winter, a confirmed 
invalid. As a practising physician in London, I had not 
seen the good results from wintering abroad that I have 
since experienced and witnessed at Mentone. The explana- 
tion, however, to me is obvious. Four out of five of my 
former patients and friends evidently committed all kinds 
of mistakes, against which, from want of experience, I 
could not guard them as I can now. They travelled about 
for pleasure, when they ought to have considered them- 
selves confirmed invalids on the brink of the grave, and 
have remained stationary. They often took up their abode 
in large, dirty, fever-poisoned southern towns, more occu- 
pied in sight-seeing than in health-seeking, and constantly 
exposed to many pernicious influences. Is it extraordinary 
that they should generally have come back as bad as, or 
even worse, than when they started ? 



* " On the Treatment of Pulmonary Consumption by Hygiene, 
Climate, and Medicine, in its connexion with Modern Doctrines.'* 
By James Henry Bennet, 2nd edition, 1871. London : Churchill. 



156 THE REVIERA AND MENTONE 

The most satisfactory cases that I have witnessed have 
been those in which climate has not been alone relied on, in 
which the patient has been under constant and judicious 
medical management, in which the routine of daily life 
has been guided by medical experience, and in which the 
various therapeutical resources that our improved know- 
ledge of phthisis gives the profession have been steadily 
persevered in. Patients left to themselves, or to rules 
laid down for their guidance at home, commit all kinds of 
errors. They constantly omit to do what they ought to 
do, and carried away by the example of others, or by the 
first dawn of improvement, do much that they ought not 
to do. 

In some instances, even of advanced phthisis, in which 
there is, from the first, but little chance of recovery, the 
invalids, surrounded by dear friends, are so charmed with 
the sunshine, with the foreign scenery, and with the vege- 
tation, that it more than compensates for all their fatigues. 
Indeed, I have known them rejoice to be under the bright 
sky of the south, even in the midst of great physical trials. 
To such sufferers, admirers of the picturesque, mentally 
alive to the beauties of nature, to the glory of the sun daily 
careering in a blaze of light through the heavens, to the 
beauty of the " ever-changing" sea, to the shadows on the 
mountains, the quiet repose out of doors all but daily 
enjoyed makes ample amends for the sacrifices of exile. They 
descend the valley of the shadow of death rejoicing, nor can 
any one, in their case, regret the fatigue encountered in the 
journey from England. 

Persons suffering from pulmonary consumption should 
also be cautioned against trusting- to the follies and delu- 
sions of homoeopathy and of other modern fallacies. They 
should ever remember that they are labouring under a 
disease, curable in some cases, but usually fatal ; from a 
disease that is still, with all our improvements in medicine, 
a verdict of death to a large proportion of those whom it 
attacks. Is it not, therefore, tempting Providence, throw- 
ing life away, abandoning the last chance of recovery, to 
discard the experience of ages, and to entrust life to the 
unknown professors of doctrines which every master-mind 



MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 157 

in Europe, engaged in the study and practice of the medical 
profession, pronounces insane delusions, to say the least? 

Many persons who have always suffered from bronchitis 
in England are quite free from it at Mentone, owing pro- 
bably to the dryness of the atmosphere. I have an old 
friend at Nice, a London physician, now above sixty, who 
abandoned London many years ago, owing to repeated 
attacks of winter bronchitis, which at last led to very 
serious complications. He made a winter settlement at 
jSTice, and, ever since, has there passed the cold season, 
perfectly free from all bronchial mischief, and in flourishing 
health. In several instances of this description with which 
I am acquainted, the attempt to once more spend the winter 
in England has been attended with a return of the bronchial 
affection with its usual severity. 

In one case, attended during my first winter's sojourn 
in the south, which I quote as illustrative of what climate 
and perseverance may accomplish, a gentleman aged forty- 
three, with softened tubercles, who had suffered from chronic 
laryngitis and bronchitis for nearly three years in England, 
lost all cough and laryngeal irritation after two winters' 
residence at Mentone, and has had no serious return of 
disease. In his case phthisis followed persevering attempts 
to get rid of gout in the chronic form, supervening on a 
first acute attack. Exercise, and a rather low diet, were 
evidently carried too far, and continued too long, con- 
sidering the arduous nature of professional pursuits. This 
patient, who got rid of gout merely to fall into tubercular 
cachexia, is now quite well, and shows no external evidence 
of the past disease. 

It is easy to understand that a dry, bracing, cool, invigo- 
rating climate such as I have described, should have a 
beneficial influence on the respiratory mucous membrane of 
persons who have still some of the vital power of youth, or 
some constitutional stamina left. When we add to this, all 
but daily exercise in the open air throughout the winter, in 
the midst of magnificent scenery, removal from the cares, 
anxieties, and duties of ordinary life, pleasant social inter- 
course with fellow-sufferers and their families, all tuned to 
the same unison of cheerful and hopeful resignation, we 



158 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE 

certainly have, united, the hygienic influences calculated to 
renovate the general health, and thus to arrest the develop- 
ment of tubercular disease. Indeed, I am firmly convinced 
that a warmer and milder winter climate, only to be found 
in a tropical or semi-tropical region, is less favourable to 
tbe recovery of health in chronic chest disease ; — provided, 
however, rigid attention be paid to the precautions necessary 
in a region where the temperature varies so constantly as 
it does on the shores of the Mediterranean. Heat and 
moisture debilitate and relax the economy; moderate cold 
and a dry atmosphere invigorate and strengthen it. 
In the treatment of phthisis, the renovation of the con- 
stitutional powers, of the general health, is of primary 
importance. 

Chronic bronchitis does well, as we have seen, under 
judicious medical management. Generally speaking, it 
gradually dies away, provided, also, the patient be prudent, 
obey hygienic and medical rules, and do not make a stove 
or hothouse of the room where he or she lives, day or night. 
By falling into this latter error, as nearly all from the 
north-east of Europe do, it is quite possible to make a 
northern climate of Mentone, and to fall from one cold 
into another throughout the entire winter. 

The form of asthma which is connected with chronic 
bronchitis, the emphysematous form, also does well. As 
its gravity depends on the bronchitis, if the latter is 
improved so is the asthma. I believe, indeed, that many of 
the pitiable sufferers who present this complication, and 
who every winter get worse, with the vista before them at 
home of inevitable aggravation of their disease, might 
attain all but entire freedom from chest suffering by 
passing several successive winters on the Riviera. To 
them, in reality, the health question is as important as it 
is to the consumptive. This form of asthma gradually 
leads to death in those who are advancing in life, and that 
through a stage of great suffering. The heart, the liver, 
the kidneys, often become secondarily congested and 
diseased, and death is the result of the combined influence 
of these various secondary maladies. In corroboration of 
this statement, I may mention that I have known several 



MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 159 

instances of patients arriving- at Men to lie in all but a 
dying state from chronic bronchitis and asthma, who have 
gradually rallied, and eventually attained a very bearable 
condition. 

I cannot say the same of the spasmodic form of asthma, 
the form that occurs in childhood, in middle age, at any 
period of life, apparently from nervous causes. I have 
known such cases do well, but the majority do not. I 
presume, that the climate is too dry, too stimulating, and 
I am inclined to think that a moister climate, such as that 
of Pau, Ajaccio, Palermo, Algiers, or Madeira, would be 
more likely to suit. I do not say that persons suffering 
from nervous asthma should not try Mentone, for, as I. have 
stated, I have known these cases do well ; but I think it 
would be imprudent for such patients to make a regular six 
months' winter settlement before trying whether it suits 
them or not. This remark applies equally to other and 
different climates. Nervous asthma is so capricious a 
disease, so much under the influence in its manifestation 
of hidden, obscure, nervous, and meteorological conditions, 
that it is impossible to tell beforehand whether a locality 
will agree or not. The best plan, therefore, is to go first to 
an hotel, and to be guided by results. 

I would mention, that to some asthmatic persons the 
mere fact of living near the sea, or a few hundred yards 
from it, may make all the difference between severe suffering 
or perfect immunity, and conversely. At Mentone, there- 
fore, both situations should be tried in case of need. I have 
observed that nearly all persons who in England are ill 
when living in immediate proximity to the sea, appear also 
to suffer at Mentone. I should therefore advise no such 
persons to settle there unless they can obtain one of the 
houses built away from the sea. To live at Mentone, in a 
large proportion of the houses, is really like living on ship- 
board ; for most of those first built, and nearly all the hotels, 
are situated on or near the beach. Within the last few 
years, however, a number of villas have been erected at 
some distance from the sea-shore, within the amphitheatre, 
as also two hotels, the Hotel da Louvre, and the Hotel 
Beau Sejour. To chest cases in general, the proximity of 



160 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE 

the sea is, I think, decidedly beneficial. Sea voyages are 
universally recommended in such diseases, and nearly all 
the sanitaria for the consumptive, such as Torquay, Bourne- 
mouth, Ventnor, Malaga, and Funchal, in Madeira, are on 
the sea-coast. Indeed, salt is lauded by some modern phy- 
sicians as a panacea for phthisis. When the sea beats on 
the shore at Mentone, the spray is thrown inland in the 
shape of a fine dust-like vapour, which extends fifty or 
even a hundred feet from the beach, and must be inhaled 
by those who live in the houses that line the shore. The 
air coming from the sea is undoubtedly the purest and most 
wholesome we can possibly breathe. 

There is another class of patients who do not appear to 
benefit, as a rule, by the climate at Mentone — those suffering 
from the more severe forms of spasmodic and intermittent 
neuralgia. I presume that the dry, keen, cool air of the 
north Mediterranean coast in general is too stimulating for 
such cases. In one, that of a lady, a former patient of my 
own, whom I had sent from England on account of ago- 
nizing tic, which usually lasted all winter, and who had 
been free the first year at Palermo and Naples, the tic 
returned with its usual violence at Mentone, and lasted 
several months, as it would have done in England. During 
subsequent winters, passed at Naples and Malta, this patient 
has again partially escaped. In other less severe cases I 
have known the neuralgic attack, apparently roused by the 
cold days, long to resist medical treatment. 

I must add, however, that in some instances patients 
liable to neuralgia have completely, or all but completely 
escaped from their usual enemy during the entire winter. 
It appears to m« that these favourable cases occur mostly 
in persons merely liable to neuralgic pains in connexion with 
deranged digestive and constitutional states, the unfavour- 
able ones in persons suffering from neuralgia in its more 
aggravated form, a very difficult malady to deal with in 
any locality in any climate. 

To those who. without having any particular ailment, 
are weak, ailing, dyspeptic, below par indeed, and who want 
invigorating and bracing, I have found the climate very 
valuable as a winter residence. 



MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 161 

To weak, sickly children, the daily sunshine and out- 
door life are inestimable. Each winter I see many delicate 
children rally in a most marvellous and gratifying manner. 
Instead of suffering from catarrhal affections, as is so often 
the case at home, they seem to enjoy a happy immunity 
from these ailments. Constantly out of doors, in the sun- 
shine, they soon become ravenous for food, sleep well, and 
get fat and rosy. It is the very climate for strumous 
children who generally lose ground during our long 
northern winters. Climate alone, however, must not be 
trusted; good food, plenty of air day and night, and 
judicious medical treatment if required, are essential. 

The very aged, like the very young, seem to thrive in 
the mild winter climate of Men tone. They can get out 
constant^, either on foot, in Bath or donkey-chairs, or in 
carriages, instead of being confined to the house for months, 
as is often the case in England. Moreover, they are never 
exposed to extreme cold, so fatal to old age. In England 
a sharp frost kills the aged as it kills flies in autumn ; the 
blood is driven internally, and fatal congestions of the lungs, 
brain, and heart occur, or still more fatal inflammatory 
affections. All these dangers are escaped. Instead of the 
cold east winds of the spring, which yearly fill the obituaries, 
there is a truly genial, balmy spring, the spring of the 
poets. 

The Riviera climate, in its more sheltered regions, is equally 
propitious to those suffering from disease of the kidney : 
congestion, albuminuria, gravel. The dryness and mildness 
of the atmosphere, by promoting cutaneous transpiration, 
relieve the kidneys as well as the lungs — for in our climate, 
as we have seen, the kidneys have also extra work to do in 
winter. Moreover, the power of living in the open air, and 
the improvement which follows in the general health, is of 
as great importance in these diseases as in chest affections. 
I have met with many very remarkable cases of improve- 
ment and even of cure. 

One important reason why the climate of Mentone and 
the Riviera is beneficial in all these forms of disease is, that 
it is seldom or never, at the same time, cold and wet. When 
the weather is cold it is with north winds, and the air is 



162 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE 

dry. When the air is moist south winds prevail, and the 
temperature is mild. 

I have long remarked in England that colds in the head, 
sore-throats, attacks of bronchitis and. influenza, only become 
prevalent when the weather is both cold and wet. Cold dry 
weather alone does not produce them epidemically, nor does 
mild damp weather. However wet and damp it may be in 
England, or in the midst of the rain and mists of the west 
coast of Scotland, as long as a summer temperature lasts, 
and the thermometer is at or above 60°, very few colds are 
met with. Let it, however, fall to 40°, 45°, or even 50°, 
and then damp or wet weather is immediately followed by 
the development of catarrhal disease on a large scale. 

Indeed, rainy weather, when the thermometer is not 
below 55° or above 65°, night or day, is not injurious to 
health. The cool, rainy summers which we sometimes have 
in England, and which characterize the west coast of Scot- 
land, are healthier than dry, warm, fine summers. 

Thus, the summer of 1860, one of the most rainy known 
for many years, was also one of the healthiest. In 1861 it 
rained all but incessantly on the west coast of Scotland, 
from the middle of June until the middle of September. 
During the summer quarter the results of observation at 
fifty-five stations of the Meteorological Society showed that 
the rainfall was 15*66 inches, instead of 8*80, the average 
of the previous years, and yet the season was unusually 
healthy. Thus the mortality was 175 deaths in every 
10,000 persons living, whilst in England it was 199. 
There was the usual difference between the town mortality 
and that of the country : — in the towns it was, in Scotland, 
204 in every 10,000 persons, in England 220 ; in the 
country, in Scotland, 142, in England 178. These data are 
taken from the quarterly report of the Registrar- General. 

I was residing or travelling on the west coast of Scotland 
during the greater part of this quarter, as an invalid, and 
found that the temperature kept between 55° and 65°. I 
scarcely ever found it either above or below. I observed 
around me, also, as on previous visits, all but universal 
immunity from catarrhal affections, colds, or coughs. I 
usually spent the day fishing, often under an umbrella, 



MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 163 

rowed in a boat on the lochs, and never once caught the 
slightest cold, although very liable to do so in a lower 
temperature if there is the least damp. In England 
the summer was much drier and warmer that year. Heavy 
rain no doubt acts beneficially in clearing the atmosphere, 
the earth, and the drains, of putrescent matter and of 
miasmata, especially when rain falls in great quantities in 
a short time, as in warm climates. 

On the other hand, continued rain and damp, with a 
temperature at or above 70°, hyperstimulates the liver 
and skin, predisposing to liver and intestinal affections, to 
diarrhoea, and dysentery, and to cutaneous diseases. 

At Mentone the winter temperature in the shade is gene- 
rally below 60°, but the air is usually dry, and this is no 
doubt the reason catarrhal affections are rare. Whenever 
the weather is both cold and damp, colds are caught at 
Mentone as elsewhere, but they generally die away as soon 
as the dry sunshine returns, even if the thermometer 
remains low. Those who enjoy the greatest immunity are 
those who keep their rooms cool and well ventilated day 
and night. Those who make large fires, who close their 
windows hermetically, and avoid every breath of air, are 
precisely those who suffer the most in this respect. I may 
instance the Germans and Swiss, who, accustomed at home 
to shut every crevice, and to treat the external air as an 
enemy, generally follow the same plan at Mentone, and 
suffer accordingly. 

One of the most convincing proofs of the healthiness of 
Mentone is the general absence of severe accidental disease. 
During my fifteen winters' residence I have seen but very 
little of the diseases usually met with in the south of 
Europe — fever, malaria, dysentery, or of any serious malady 
attributable to external causes. Indeed, I have been prin- 
cipally consulted for the diseases and ailments that the 
invalids brought with them. This is the more remarkable 
when we consider that in many large continental health 
towns, such as Naples, Rome, Malaga, a considerable pro- 
portion of the foreign physicians'' duties consists in attending 
their countrymen for maladies of the above-mentioned cha- 
racter. 

M % 



164 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE 

To derive that benefit, however, from the climate of 
Mentone, and of the south of Europe generally, which it 
is capable of affording in disease, and especially in pulmo- 
nary consumption, the most rigid adherence should be paid 
to the hygienic rules necessary in these regions during the 
winter season. It should never be forgotten that in winter 
the heat is sun-heat, and that the air, barring its influence, 
is usually cold. Warm clothes and woollen outer garments 
should be used. In dressing for out of doors, a thermo- 
meter, placed outside a north room, should be daily con- 
sulted. 

Those who visit the south for the first time often think 
that summer clothing only is necessary, and that warm 
clothes and great-coats may be discarded. I have even 
known physicians at home, who should have been better 
informed, tell their patients so. Never was there a greater 
mistake ; summer clothes are useless from December to 
May. Those required are the light but warm woollen 
clothes we wear during our cold spring and autumn, with 
light over garments. The latter can seldom be safely dis- 
pensed with, even on the sunniest and warmest winter days, 
on account of the great difference between the sunshine and 
the shade. We may take a lesson from the native gentle- 
men, who, whenever it is not absolutely warm, cover them- 
selves up to the chin with heavy cloaks. 

If these rules are not observed, if warm woollen clothes 
are not constantly worn, and even warm flannel or merino 
vests next the skin, rheumatic pains often attack the strong 
as well as the weak, and more especially those who are 
advancing in life. Indeed, I question whether, in the 
south of Europe, in winter, it is not as difficult to keep 
free from rheumatic pains as it is in the north. The heat 
of the sun in the day makes northerners thoughtless about 
outer garments, whilst the least exposure to the cool dry air 
which reigns for months may be followed with this penalty. 
Attendance at church is a fruitful cause of rheumatism and 
colds. If the church is warm, people catch cold on going 
out. If it is cool, they nearly all come much too lightly 
dressed for sitting still a couple of hours " in their Sunday 
best/' and often return home with sharp pains, which they 



MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 165 

try to account for by imaginary draughts. I myself wear, 
in all weathers, a thick woollen Inverness cape, such as 
I should wear in Scotland, and that throughout the winter; 
it is an admirable garment for such a climate. 

This tendency to rheumatic pains is not peculiar to the 
Riviera. It exists, in winter, all over the south and the 
east, in Italy, in Spain, in Egypt, in Algeria, and even 
irf the Desert of Sahara. The Bedouin Arabs, in winter, 
with the thermometer at 80° or 90° in the daytime, swathe 
themselves up in woollen garments and woollen cloaks, 
for rheumatism is their enemy as well as ours. 

Although rheumatic pains are common, rheumatic fever 
is rare. I have seen, it is true, several cases, but it has 
always been early in the winter, in persons who evidently 
brought the blood predisposition with them. The free 
action of the skin, in this climate, probably tends to purify 
the blood and to render rheumatic fever uncommon. It is 
not by any means a frequent disease among the natives, 
although muscular rheumatism, on the contrary, is very 
common, owing, no doubt, to exposure and to insufficient 
clothing. 

As might be anticipated, such a climate is favourable 
to gout, and I have known many gouty persons enjoy a 
happy immunity from habitual suffering. Sharp attacks 
of gout, however, may occur here as elsewhere, in those 
who are liable to them, especially soon after arrival from 
the North. The free and constant action of the skin is 
favourable to the gouty as well as to the rheumatic. 

The hours for out-of-door exercise should be between nine 
and three or four, and the return should be so arranged 
as to secure the arrival at home before sunset. Italian 
physicians appear to attach a mysterious and noxious in- 
fluence to the hour of sunset. In such a climate as that of 
Mentone and Nice, I am persuaded that the danger is 
in the rapid lowering of the temperature at that time, 
which exposes to sudden chills, the pores of the skin being 
often open at the time through previous exercise. This 
sudden chill in southern climates is no doubt alone sufficient 
to produce fever of the intermittent type, without any 
malarious agency. It is because the same danger exists 



166 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE 

even in midday, in passing accidentally from the sun to 
the shade., that it is always necessary to be dressed for the 
latter. 

The invalid should inhabit a south room, and not remain 
long in a north room unless the weather be warm, or unless 
it be warmed by a fire. The one is summer, the other 
winter. When the weather is bad, he or she should make 
a good fire, and scrupulously stay at home in well- ventilated 
rooms until it changes. Sunshine and warmth are sure 
soon to reappear, and thus to bring the confinement to a 
close. After several days of chilly rain, as already stated, 
sore throats, colds in the head, coughs, and rheumatic pains 
begin as in England ; but then the sun again shines, and 
they usually at once die away. All dinner and evening 
parties should be strictly forbidden to invalids. They 
should be in before sunset, and not leave home again until 
the following morning, throughout the winter. 

Lastly, exercise and out-door life must not be carried so 
far as to produce permanent lassitude. Many of the most 
confirmed invalids fall into this error — one easily com- 
mitted — owing to the great attractions of out-door life, to 
the all but constant fine weather, and to the iujunction 
generally made to take daily exercise, if possible. 

This last remark applies more especially to consumptive 
patients. Physical debility is a more ordinary accompani- 
ment of phthisis than is generally supposed, and when it 
exists much exercise is decidedly pernicious. In some cases, 
indeed, scarcely any exercise can betaken without impairing 
the digestion of food, and thus producing sleeplessness and 
extreme lassitude, a fact not generally known, even by 
physicians, and clearly a result of the organic cachexia 
connected with the disease. 

During the iiiteen winters I have passed at Mentone, 
constantly surrounded by consumptive patients labouring 
under every stage of the disease, 1 have become more and 
more convinced of the truth and importance of this fact. 
Those who do the best are those who accept their position 
cheerfully, who secede entirely from the valid part of the 
population, from their amusements and occupations, and 
are content to lead a quiet, contemplative existence. Happy 



MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 167 

are they if they can find pleasure in books, music, sketching, 
and the study of nature; if they can be satisfied to spend 
their days in the vicinity of the house in which they live, 
and to sit or lie for hours basking in the sun, like an 
" invalided lizard on the wall,'"' following implicitly the 
medical rules laid down for their guidance. Nearly all the 
best cases I have met with have been among such. Those 
who have no mental resources in themselves, who are mise- 
rable unless engaged in active pursuits, fare the worst, both 
in body and mind. They do not resignedly accept the 
forced inaction their disease entails upon them, are dis- 
contented and restless, constantly commit imprudences for 
the sake of amusement, and over-tax their strength by 
endeavouring to participate in the pleasures and pursuits 
of the healthy and strong. 

A good plan for the invalid is to walk, ride, or drive to 
one of the many romantic regions in the neighbourhood — 
to Roccabruna, the Cabrole valley, the Cap Martin, the 
Pont St. Louis, the Nice, or Genoa Road, or, on calm days, 
to the picturesque rocky beach — to take the cushions out 
of the carriage, if driving, with a cloak or two, and to 
remain sitting or lying in the sunshine, in some spot 
sheltered from wind, for two or three hours. The range of 
observation is thus increased without fatigue, the glorious 
scenery of the district is seen and enjoyed in its ever- 
varying phases, and the mind is refreshed by change. 

On fine days, when the sea is calm, boats also can be 
had for a sail or a row, and air and exercise obtained with- 
out fatigue. Those who are equal to a sail and a drive the 
same day can, according to the wind, sail east or west along 
the coast as far as Ventimiglia or Monaco, distant, the one 
seven, the other five miles. They can then land and return 
by means of a carriage sent on from Mentone to meet them. 
The view of the mountains thus obtained from the sea is 
truly magnificent. Indeed, it is only from the sea, as I 
have stated, that the grandeur of the mountain and coast 
scenery can be truly appreciated. 

With the above precautions, the climate of Mentone, 
and of the south of Europe generally, is safe and beneficial ; 
witnout them it is unsafe and treacherous. This is evidenced 



168 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE 

by the great winter mortality of the natives of the Nice and 
Mentone districts, and of Italy and Spain generally, by 
pneumonia and pleurisy, two of the commonest maladies. 
Being badly clothed, never making fires, and ignorantly 
braving the atmospheric changes, the lower orders are 
constantly exposed to chills, and succumb in numbers to 
these diseases, treated, as they are in Italy, by bleeding 
every few hours. Persons in the latter stages of phthisis 
more especially suffer from the slightest dereliction of the 
above rules, which they are not always the most careful to 
follow. Indeed, I have no hesitation in asserting that the 
improvement of the phthisical invalid depends as much on 
close attention to these injunctions as on the medical skill 
of his attendant, and that it is the more decided the more 
faithfully they are observed. 

One great advantage of the dryness of the atmosphere, 
and of the absence of severe cold in the night, is that bed- 
room windows may be left open, more or less, without risk 
of any kind, throughout the winter, and thus perfect night 
ventilation of the bed-room can be attained. This is a most 
important point both for the sound and the unsound, but 
more especially for invalids and for those who are suffering 
from pulmonary consumption. 

Invalids should invariably sleep in a south room, as they 
thereby insure a mild and equable night temperature 
throughout the greater part of the winter, even with the 
window open. The same rule, however, does not apply to 
those who are sound, or to those who have in a great 
measure recovered health. 

In south rooms, saturated all day by warm sunshine, the 
temperature seldom falls at night below from 56° to 60° 
Fah., owing, no doubt, in part to the radiation of heat from 
the walls. In north rooms, on the contrary, the tempera- 
ture approximates much more to that of the external 
atmosphere, unless raised by fire. With the window 
slightly open, it will generally range from 50° to 5Q°, 
according to the coldness of the night. This is a much 
more wholesome state of things for the healthy, as a 
moderate degree of cold at night braces and invigorates the 
system. The warm bed-room is a debilitating hothouse to 



MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 169 

persons in health. Indeed, a lower temperature by night 
than by day is indicated by nature. It is found necessary 
for the well-being of plants in all stoves, hothouses, and 
conservatories, and was evidently intended by an all- wise 
Providence, which only turned the earth toward the sun 
for a portion of the twenty-four hours. 

In concluding these remarks on the medical charac- 
teristics of the Riviera climate, there is one important fact 
to which I would more particularly draw attention. Con- 
tinued and careful observation during a long series of years 
has led me to the conclusion that the benefit to be derived 
from a winter residence in this favoured part of Europe, or 
in any other healthy locality, is not always obtained at 
once ; sometimes not even the first winter. 

Confirmed invalids brin": their constitution with them. 
As the Latin poet says — 

" Coelum, non aniniam, mutant qui trans mare currunt." 

The illness under which they suffer has probably been the 
result of pernicious influences, constitutional, social, cli- 
matal, which have been in operation for many years. The 
entire organization is unfavourably, morbidly modified. 
Even if the locality and climate chosen are the very best 
that could possibly be found, it is unreasonable to expect 
an immediate or sudden change. Yet it is what most 
invalids do expect; and, owing to their ignorance of this 
fact, they often feel disappointed, and express themselves 
so, when time passes and but little apparent benefit is 
experienced. 

In reality, in confirmed progressing disease, not to get 
worse, merely to remain stationary, may be evidence of the 
success of the means used, the evidence of real improvement. 
If a train is rushing furiously into some danger, and the 
guard and engine-driver put down the breaks and reverse 
the engine, the train does not stop all at once. It continues 
its progress for a time, notwithstanding the most judicious 
and efficient steps to arrest it. When it yields to control 
at first it remains stationary, and later, only, begins to 
retrace its steps. 

So it is in disease; its onward progress has first to be 



170 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE 

checked. Change of climate, the removal of all disturbing, 
pernicious influences, may not apparently tell at the outset, 
although they may be silently, quietly exercising the de- 
sired and anticipated influence. Then comes the stationary 
period, and only later still — in pulmonary consumption often 
not until the second or third winter — the real, undoubted 
improvement. 

I have watched many sufferers for successive winters, and 
have thus had the opportunity of judging comparatively. 
Unquestionably the most satisfactory cases of arrested 
and of cured phthisis that I have seen, have been among 
those who have had the power and the will to return again 
and again ; who have adopted one of my mottoes, vivendum 
est, " to be or not to be," and have cheerfully made every 
possible sacrifice of family ties and of social position and 
duties, in order to give themselves a fair chance of life. 

The health of the native population is exceptionally good. 
According to the late Dr. Bottini, in his work entitled 
" Menton et son Climat," this much regretted physician, 
who had practised more than a quarter of a century in the 
district, says that the average duration of life is forty-five 
years, an average far above that of the town population of 
the south of Europe in general. He also states that a large 
proportion of the older inhabitants of the district attain to 
above seventy years of age. This is the more remarkable, 
as t}ie houses of the old town are crowded, one above the 
other, in a most unhygienic manner. But then they are 
built on a very steep acclivity, so that nearly all enjoy light, 
air, and sunshine, notwithstanding their extreme proximity 
to each other. Moreover, the streets, although narrow, are 
clean, owing to everything that can be turned into manure 
being carefully preserved, and carried off to the mountain 
terraces. 

The diseases under which they suffer present nothing 
peculiar beyond a tendency to scrofula and chlorosis in the 
young, which may be attributed to a low vegetable diet. 
Gout is all but unknown, rheumatic fever rare, as already 
stated ; indeed, it is seldom seen except in persons recently 
arrived, although muscular rheumatism is common. As a 
general rule, intermittent and remittent fevers, — that is, 



MEDICALLY CONSIDERED. 171 

malarious fevers, are all but unknown. A few years 
ago, however, for two summers there were many cases. 
This is a very singular fact, difficult to account for on the 
marsh theory, as there are no marshes or plains whatever in 
the district. Some of the cases occurred in mountain 
villages such as Grimaldi, perched on the rock side 700 feet 
above the sea. The manifestation of intermittent fever in 
such a locality seems to me a proof that in certain electrical 
and thermometrical conditions of the atmosphere these 
fevers can be generated without marsh miasmata, by mere 
chills, when the economy is predisposed by previous intense 
heat. In Corsica and Algeria I found intermittent and re- 
mittent fever to exist everywhere, on high mountains as 
well as on plains, although undoubtedly much less frequent 
and severe on the former. It is certainly singular that 
malarious fevers should be little observed on the Riviera 
when they are so rife and deadly on the opposite coast of 
Corsica. The probable cause is the equability of the day 
and night temperatures, but I shall discuss this question at 
length in another chapter, that on Corsica. 

The sick poor are attended by physicians and surgeons 
appointed and paid by the town or district. These gentle- 
men are the medical and surgical attendants of an hospital, 
erected in the angle of the eastern bay a few } r ears ago. 

Pulmonary consumption is a rare malady among the 
native population, the deaths from this cause being only 
one in fifty-five instead of one in five, as in London and 
Paris, and one in six at Geneva. Those whom it attacks 
are all but invariably people who follow sedentary pur- 
suits. The disease is nearly unknown among those who 
work in the open air. It is a well established fact, that 
although tubercular disease is more common in cold, damp 
climates, like that of England, Holland, and the north of 
France, it can be and is developed anywhere, by defective 
ventilation, the want of light, bad food, and overwork of 
body or mind. All these causes are united in many of the 
unhealthy towns of the south of Europe, and in all such 
consumption is more or less rife. To prevent or arrest it, 
not only do we require a favourable climate, but also every 
hygienic condition and precaution. Thus, in Naples, a very 



172 THE RIVIERA AND MENTONE. 

unhygienic southern town, the deaths from phthisis are one 
in eight; at Marseilles, where the hygienic conditions are, 
or used to be, still worse, the mortality from this cause is, 
or rather was, as great as one in four. This fact will sur- 
prise no one who has made a journey of discovery in the 
old quarters, before the recent improvements. The town of 
Marseilles, however, is being regenerated. 

Notwithstanding the heat of the summer, liver affections 
are rare, as also is dysenteric disease. The cool weather 
of autumn arrives sufficiently early in November to check 
the tendency to abdominal and intestinal disease produced 
by the warmth of the summer and autumn. Asiatic cholera 
has never appeared at Mentone, a rather singular fact, as it 
has exercised considerable ravages on most other parts of 
the Riviera. 

This all but total absence of actual dysentery at Mentone 
is a strong evidence of the healthiness of the district, for 
the summer and autumn heat are certainly quite sufficient 
to predispose to it were other conditions favourable to its 
development. There is, however, a most remarkable con- 
nexion between dysentery and the intermittent and re- 
mittent fevers known as malarious. They are met with in 
the same regions, and under the same conditions, and 
appear often to take the place one of the other. Thus, the 
general immunity of the Mentone district from malarious 
fevers may be said to explain its general immunity from 
dysentery. Bilious diarrhoea, bordering on dysentery, is 
not uncommon in the autumn, especially with invalids who 
arrive too early. The last ten days of October is quite 
early enough for arrival, and the first week of May is quite 
early enough for departure. 



CHAPTER VII. 

MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

AMUSEMENTS — DRIVES — HIDES— PEDESTRIAN EXCURSIONS — MOUNTAIN 
VILLAGES — CASINO — CHURCHES— SOCIAL LIFE. 

" All ! what a life were this, how sweet, how lovely ! 
Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade 
To shepherds looking on their silly sheep, 
Than doth a rich embroidered canopy 
To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? 
yes, it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth." — Shakspeare. 

Since the first edition of this work was published, in 1861, 
Mentone has quite chauged its character. It was then a 
quiet little Italian town on the sunny shore of the Riviera, 
with two or three small hotels, principally used by passing' 
travellers, and half a dozen recently erected villas. Now 
it has become a well-known and frequented winter resort, 
with thirty hotels, four times that number of villas, and a 
mixed foreign winter population of above sixteen hundred. 
Many of these winter visitors are invalids in search of 
health, but a large proportion are mere sun-worshippers, 
who have left the north to bask in the southern sunshine, 
or travellers to or from Italy, glad to rest for a time under 
the Lemon and Olive-clad hills of lovely Mentone. Its re- 
sources for visitors, however, are still principally in pic- 
turesque outdoor life. The scenery is most grand and 
imposing in the mountain background, most picturesque 
and romantic in the nearer hills and coast outline. Every 
ravine, every valley is a path of great loveliness, ascending 
gently towards the higher range. The flora is very abundant, 
and, as we have seen, most of our garden spring flowers 
grow wild in great luxuriance. The geological aspects of 
the country are also very instructive, and afford constant 



174 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

occupation and amusement to those interested in such 
pursuits. 

The great invalids, if prudent, mostly keep to the drives 
and walks along the seashore. Those who are stronger, 
mounted on sure-footed donkeys, ascend the mountain paths 
as far as their strength permits; whilst the robust and valid 
members of the community try their pedestrian powers 
by ascending the higher mountains in various directions. 
Whenever the sun shines there are protected valleys and 
sunny mountain nooks, where at all times, in December or 
January, as well as earlier and later, warmth, a quie.t 
atmosphere, and flowers are sure to be found. What with 
these occupations, books and papers and the harmonious 
intercourse of countrymen united by the bond of common 
origin, the winter passes pleasantly; merely saddened, occa- 
sionally, by the final departure of some hopeless sufferer. 

Although the Mentonian amphitheatre is limited, as 
described, it is sufficiently extensive to offer all but endless 
excursions to visitors, ill or well, and more especially to 
pedestrians. The protected valleys and hills are very nume- 
rous, and within the reach even of the invalid population. 
Once, also, the higher barrier of mountains has been passed, 
a perfect Switzerland opens out to the adventurous and 
to the valid tourist. 

Within the immediate area of the Mentone district 
there are other points of interest besides the valleys and 
hills. The drives are very picturesque and lovely in their 
entire extent, and are all within the peculiar shelter of the 
locality. They are : the beautiful western or Nice road to 
Roccabruna and the Turbia ; the equally beautiful eastern 
or Genoa road to Ventimiglia and Bordighera; the charming 
road along the shore to Monaco ; the road to the Cap 
Martin, to its bold, broken, rocky point, to the ruins of the 
old convent in the centre, and to the telegraph tower ; the 
mountain pass road up the Carei valley, which winds over 
the mountains to Sospello and Turin; and lastly, the road 
that leads along the Cabrole valley to the foot of the St a . 
Lucia and St a . Agnese mountains. 

The first-mentioned drive, that to Roccabruna, Turbia, 
and Nice, has already been described. It is the road the 




1 *aris . Imp ■ Monrorq; . 



J2 IE MENTOR .AMPHTTTrFATB^ 




DRIVES — TTJRBIA VENTIMIGLIA. 175 

stranger passes along on his arrival at Mentone from Nice, 
and is so exquisitely beautiful that it generally remains the 
favourite excursion, even during a residence of many months. 
Two hours are required to gently ascend the mountain side 
from Mentone to Turbia, at the summit of the pass. During 
the entire ascent the road is thoroughly sheltered from the 
north, and steeped in sunshine until the sun descends behind 
the mountains on the western horizon. The return only 
takes one hour, or one and a half, according to pace. The 
village of Turbia, which crowns the pass, is a landmark in 
history. It was the frontier between Gaul and Liguria in 
the time of the Romans, and there is still to be seen near 
the road the very interesting ruins of a tower built by the 
Roman emperor Augustus, nearly two thousand years ago. 
These ruins show well in what a massive style military 
works were constructed by the Romans, and are quite worth 
a special visit. 

The Genoa road, which skirts the coast, is, as I have 
stated, equally beautiful. It begins to ascend at once on 
leaving the eastern bay, passing over the picturesque bridge 
and ravine of St. Louis. Above this it is positively blasted 
out of the side of the limestone rock. 

In cold weather, the invalid should not go beyond the 
turn or highest point of this road, as there is a cold gorge 
beyond. But on a fine warm day the drive may be pro- 
longed along the coast to Ventimiglia, a quaint old fortified 
town, with a fair-sized snow-formed river, the Roya, which 
descends along a picturesque and wide valley from the foot 
of the Col de Tende. Ventimiglia is seven miles from 
Mentone ; and Bordighera, where the Palm trees are met 
with in all their glory, is four miles further. On the return, 
if " imprudently 1 '' made towards sunset, a most glorious 
view is obtained when the highest part of the road is 
reached near Mentone. The entire amphitheatre is beauti- 
fully seen, and the setting sun behind the Esterel mountains 
reveals their sharp outlines, the isle St. Marguerite at 
Cannes, and the lighthouse at Antibes, as distinctly as if 
only a few miles distant, instead of fifty. They are clothed 
also, in the most magnificent colours, purple, crimson, 
and red. 



176 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

" But lo ! the sun is setting ; earth and sky- 
One blaze of glory : 

He lingers yet ; and lessening to a point, 
Shines like the eye of heaven — then withdraws ; 
And from the zenith to the utmost skirts 
All is celestial red/'— Rogers. 

The drive to Monaco, about five miles along the coast, at 
the foot of the mountains, is certainly one of the most 
beautiful in Europe. It winds along the shore following 
the indentations of the coast; at one moment all but level 
with the beach, at another rising more than a hundred feet 
above it. 

On the land side are mountains, ascending rapidly many 
hundred feet above the sea, hoar with age, rent and torn in 
every conceivable shape. Sometimes huge rocks that have 
been riven from the parent mountain by nature's agencies, 
hang above the road as if about to fall on the traveller; or 
they have actually fallen, leapt over it, and lie in wild con- 
fusion underneath. In one spot, where an avalanche of 
this kind has descended from on high, there is a rock 
as large as a small house, arrested in its downward progress 
by the trunk of an old olive tree. The veteran appears to 
be bravely endeavouring to stem the descent of its enemy, 
and so far has succeeded; 

On the Mediterranean side are quiet coves and bays, 
where the waves ripple gently on sandy beaches, at the foot 
of jagged, capriciously shaped rocks, covered with pines 
and brushwood. They appear indescribably lovely from the 
road, and inspire the wayfarer with an all but irresistible 
desire to stop his progress, in order to bathe, or to sit 
leisurely on the shore watching the play of the briny 
waters. 

Both going to Monaco and returning, from early morn 
to evening, this lovely road is steeped in the glowing sun- 
shine of the south. Being thus sheltered and in the sun 
all the way, it can be resorted to whenever the wind does 
not blow from the sea. Monaco, a little town perched on 
a rocky peninsula all but surrounded by the sea, is itself 
very interesting. It is a calm and lovely spot on a fine 
sunny day, with its pretty little port, all but rock-sur- 



DBIVES — MONACO. 177 

rounded, clear and blue, enlivened only by a few fishing- 
boats. 

The railway from Nice to Genoa has now been open for 
some time, and a small steamer that used to ply between 
Nice and Monaco has ceased to run. Few will trust to the 
faithless, capricious deep who can avoid it, and yet on a fine 
day it is a most enjoyable mode of reaching Nice. The 
railway from Nice to Mentone was a most difficult and ex- 
pensive undertaking, and occupied several years. It passes 
through nine tunnels, and skirts deep bays and indentations 
of the coast on sea walls and causeways, at the foot of 
which the sea breaks constantly. The coast is very lovely, 
and, in my eyes, the railway, convenient although it be, 
rather mars its beauty. Nature seems to have been 
wounded, scarred, interfered with in every sense. She will 
soon, however, obliterate the scars she has received with 
wild plants and with southern verdure, and then we shall 
perhaps learn to look upon the line merely as a messenger 
of progress and civilization. At the time of the annexa- 
tion the French Government promised to construct a port 
at Mentone, and is now redeeming its promise; a pier is 
being thrown out beyond the old Genoese castle. The latter 
is built on a rock in the sea at the point of the promontory 
on which the town stands. This pier, although only half 
finished, already protects and improves the port and 
anchorage, and facilitates the loading and unloading of 
the vessels that come to Mentone. 

Mentone and the village of Roccabruna formed a part of 
the principality of Monaco from the early Middle Ages. 
The Princes of Monaco held their small principality as 
feudatories of Piedmont, and although swept away by the 
French Revolution, were recognised in their former rights 
at the Treaty of Vienna. Their authority, however, was 
harshly exercised, and in 1848 Mentone and Roccabruna 
made a small revolution in imitation of France, drove the 
Prince away, and declared themselves independent. The 
happy independence thus gained, with Arcadian immunity 
from taxes or conscription, they enjoyed until I860, when 
the Prince of Monaco ceded his rights over his revolted 
subjects to the Emperor of France for the sum of 120,000/. 

N 



178 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

Monaco, his faithful city of six hundred inhabitants, he 
retained as the capital of the diminished principality, 
under the jurisdiction of France. 

The old city of Monaco is built on an elevated promon- 
tory, and from its advancing considerably into the sea, 
beyond the coast line, it is rather too much exposed to the 
mistral or north-west wind to be an agreeable winter 
residence. It was well known to the Romans, is often 
mentioned by classical writers, and has had a little history 
of its own throughout the dark and Middle Ages. Its 
princes have been small kings on their sea-girt rock, and 
have often waged war,. under the wing first of one powerful 
protector, then of another. The Sardinians, the French, 
the Genoese, have all in turn been allies or foes, until 
at last a real annexation to France has taken place. By a 
treaty made with that country, the customs and criminal 
jurisprudence have been surrendered, as well as Mentone. 

The late French Emperor, however, allowed the Prince of 
Monaco to retain his gaming establishment, although none 
were permitted in France, and that when the German 
Dukes were about to abandon this source of revenue. 
But the oranges, the lemons, and the oil, are nearly gone 
with Mentone and Roccabruna, and the Princes of Monaco 
do not feel disposed, it may be presumed, to abandon the 
motto imputed to them of old : 

" Son Monaco sopra nn scoglio 
Non semino e non raccoglio, 
E pur mangiare voglio." 

The temptation afforded by the large income derived 
from this source was too great to be withstood, and now 
that all the German gaming-houses are suppressed, Monaco 
reigns supreme as nearly the only gambling establishment 
in Europe, and certainly the only one carried on in the 
princely style of Homburg and Baden in former days. M. 
Leblanc, the present lessee, has spent an immense sum of 
money in building a beautiful casino on the model of the 
one at Homburg, several first-class hotels, and many 
elegant villas, in the most protected situations. These 
buildings have all been erected in a picturesque spot, on the 






DRIVES MONACO. 179 

east side of the port, about half a mile from the town. 
Thus the promontory on which the town of Monaco is 
perched shelters the new gambling colony, in a great 
measure, from the north-west wind, to which the town 
itself is exposed. M. Leblanc is spending regally a por- 
tion of his income in improvements of every kind — 
roads, bridges, terraces — and is showing much more taste 
in his erections, and in the arrangement of the lovely 
grounds around the casino, than the Mentonians have 
as yet exhibited. But then his means are very great, 
for he levies tribute on a large community, the gambling 
population of Europe. The garden is beautifully planted 
and laid out, and the terraces facing the sea are covered 
with shrubs and flowers that flourish and bloom in winter. 
Certainly, under his auspices, Monaco has become a fairy- 
land, and it is lamentable to think that so much loveliness 
should originate in such a source. 

The band plays twice a day, from half-past two to four, 
and from half-past eight to ten. It is composed of seventy- 
four thoroughly good musicians, selected from Germany 
and Italy, and discourses really " sweet music" in a noble 
music-hall or ball-room. It is a great treat to listen to so 
admirably led and so well-trained an orchestra, in this out 
of the way place, and it is a pleasure we Mentonians can 
enjoy when we like. The drive takes about an hour at an 
easy pace, but by rail it is only ten minutes. 

On a fine sunny winter's day it is a most charming 
excursion to drive over to Monaco, to lunch at the luxu- 
rious Hotel de Paris, or alfresco in pic-nic style on the road; 
to saunter over the gardens, to listen for an hour to the 
fairy-like music, and then to return leisurely home, before 
sunset chills the air. The drawback is the idea that always 
haunts one, that the vice of gambling should be the means 
of placing these quiet, health-giving pleasures at our dis- 
posal. I try, when I go there, which I often do for the 
sake of the flowers and the music, to forget all about it, and 
with that view seldom or never enter the gaming saloons. 
I never recommend any one to settle at Monaco, for I can- 
not but think that the immediate proximity of a gaming 
table, in the absence of all active occupation, is dangerous 

N 2 



180 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

to many who would never positively seek its excitement 
and risks. Moreover, the company, male and female, is 
very bad in the evening. The four o'clock afternoon train 
from Nice brings daily a crowd of loose characters. 

The Cap Martin, a semicircular peninsula, covered with 
an Olive grove in the centre, and a protecting Pine forest 
on the coast margin, is another charming drive. It forms 
one side of the western bay, and is a most picturesque and 
attractive spot. The road branches off from the Nice road 
near the town, passes through an Olive grove of fine, 
curious old trees, and then divides into two. The one, 
after passing by some pretty orange orchards, skirts the 
shore, fringed with irregular, water-worn rocks, blanched 
by the waves which the south-west wind drives on them 
with extreme fury. When there is a storm from the south- 
west or south-east, it is a magnificent spectacle to watch 
the sea dashing violently on the sharp, jagged masses of 
limestone, and breaking into dense masses of foam and 
spray. 

At the extremity of the cape, just as the seashore road 
begins to turn and to ascend, there is a little sheep track, 
that winds round the promontory, above the sea, at the 
foot of the steep myrtle-covered cliffs ; and amidst the con- 
fused, irregular mass of rocks which line the shore there are 
various little warm and lovely coves. This path is, without 
any doubt, one of the most delightful spots in the district 
for the quiet contemplation of nature's sterner beauties. 
The time to spend an hour or two here is in the afternoon, 
when the sun, passing to the west, pours its warm rays on 
this, the western side of the cape. An intelligent survey 
of the wilderness of rocks will reveal a hundred nooks 
worthy of an emperor's siesta. 

The other branch of the Cap road ascends to the higher 
ground of the promontory, and leads, through lovely woods 
of Olive and Pine, with a brushwood of Myrtle, Lentiscus, 
prickly Broom, and Thyme, to some old ruins, said by 
some to be Roman, and by others to be the remains of a 
convent. Near them is a telegraph tower, which the 
electric wire has rendered useless. 

Both these roads afford at every step magnificent views 






DRIVES THE CAREI VALLEY. 181 

of the Mentonian amphitheatre, of the grandiose moun- 
tains that form it, and of the bold and irregular coast line 
as far as Bordighera, some twelve miles off. Bordighera, 
built on a promontory which advances out to sea in a 
south-eastern direction, is a very prominent object from 
every part of the coast as far as Antibes. It gives at a 
distance the promise of greater beauty than is realized on 
a closer inspection. 

The Turin road (see local map) ascends the deepest and 
longest valley in the amphitheatre — that of Carei, at the 
entrance of the town. The ascent begins about a mile 
from the shore. It is for some distance very gentle, 
until a mile beyond the village of Monti, when it. begins 
to climb the side of the mountain by a terraced, engi- 
neered causeway, like one of the great Swiss passes into 
Italy. This road, only recently completed, reaches the 
summit of the pass, about three miles from the shore, at 
an elevation of 2-400 feet. It then passes through a short 
tunnel, descends and joins the road from Nice to Turin by 
the Col de Tende at Sospello, the second stage from Nice. 
The Mentonian amphitheatre is thus now in free commu- 
nication with the highland regions that surround it, and 
from which it had hitherto been cut off by its mountain 
barrier. Supplies of forage, and of mountain produce 
generally, now easily get to Men tone by road carriage, 
whereas formerly they could only reach by mules, or round 
by Nice. 

Moreover, a beautiful and interesting highland district 
has become accessible throughout the winter, not only to 
hardy pedestrians, as heretofore, but to all strangers and 
invalids capable of prudently leaving the protected regions 
and of spending a lew hours in a carriage. This part of 
the Maritime Alps contains many places of interest, many 
picturesque localities, which can be visited by all but the 
more confirmed invalids during a great part of the winter. 
Even the invalid visitor is now able to penetrate beyond 
the mountain barrier in the autumn, before severe weather 
has set in, and in the early spring, in April and May, 
when the reign of winter has ceased in these southern 
mountains. 



182 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

The last named drive is along the Boirie or Cabrole 
valley. This road, a remarkably good and nearly level one, 
is about a mile and a half in extent. It skirts a mountain 
torrent, which occupies the very centre of the Mentone 
amphitheatre, and which carries to the sea the watershed 
of a considerable extent of the surrounding mountains. 
When I first knew Mentone there was no bridge over 
this torrent, where it throws itself into the sea, near the 
entrance of the town, and after heavy rains it was some- 
times so swollen as to intercept all communication for 
many hours. A new bridge has been built, so that here, 
at least, travellers will no longer have to wait " until the 
river runs dry," for we could never say with Horace, 

" Rusticus exspectat dum denuat amnis ; at ille 
Labitur, et labetur in omne volubilis sevum. 

The view of the mountains from this valley is magnificent, 
for we are at their base, in the very heart of the amphi- 
theatre. No winds ever penetrate, not even the sea breeze, 
the valley describing an angle which effectively shuts it out. 
The railroad station has been erected at its entrance in the 
midst of lovely mountain scenery. At the termination of 
the carriage road there is a picturesque olive mill, and beyond 
a romantic pathway, which extends for another mile, mean- 
dering among Olive and Pine groves, until it reaches the 
small village of Cabrole, at the head of the valley. 

About the centre of that portion of the valley which is 
occupied by the carnage road the torrent receives a tribu- 
tary from the west, bringing the waters of one of the 
prettiest sandstone ravines of the district. It is called the 
Primrose and Hepatica valley, owing to the presence of 
these flowers in profusion in early spring. Both the Cabrole 
and the Primrose valleys are invaluable to the invalids of 
the western bay, offering a safe retreat from every wind, 
sunshine, and the most wild, beautiful scenery. Being 
within half a mile of the entrance of the town, they are as 
accessible to pedestrians as to those who ride or drive. 

Strangers have to learn how to enjoy these drives. The 
plan that I recommend is not merely to drive to a point 
and then back again, but, once the general features of the 



DRIVES — THE CABROLE VALLEY. 183 

country have become familiar, to make use of the carriage 
or Bath-chair or donkey merely to reach the most sheltered 
and picturesque part of the region selected. Then it should 
be abandoned, in order leisurely to explore on foot the 
romantic mountain paths and the charming woodland nooks 
that can only thus be reached. If unequal to such an exer- 
tion, the invalid can recline in some chosen spot, lazarone 
fashion, on the ground, in the sunshine. With the help of 
rugs and cloaks, or of the carriage cushions, a comfortable 
encampment may be made, in which an hour or more passes 
very swiftly in the enjoyment of the felicity so eloquently 
described by Shakspeare in the verses at the head of this 
chapter. 

Should even this be too great an exertion, the carriage 
can be stopped in some exceptionally lovely spot, turned so 
as for the hood to afford protection from the sun or wind, 
the invalid made comfortable, and then the valid members 
of the party can depart for a stroll. 

No one need be afraid of thus reclining on the ground, 
as there is an entire absence at Mentone of all animated 
creatures of a venomous nature, with the exception of 
mosquitoes. There are, it is true, little black scorpions, 
but they seem to hybernate in winter, and are only found 
by those who look for them under the bark of decayed 
olive trees. In April, not before, serpents appear on very 
warm sunny rocks and sites, but they belong to the harm- 
less species of the " collubra/' as in England. No other 
species, not even vipers, are known to exist. There is a 
small flat-headed ugly lizard which the peasants consider 
venomous, and destroy when they find it. I saw one of this 
identical species in Africa among the ruins at Carthage, 
and was told by my dragoman that it was decided^ 
venomous. The Nice naturalists, however, deny that it is 
so, and say that the popular idea is a fallacy, founded on 
its really repulsive appearance. 

The possibility of being thus able to lie, basking in the 
sun, on the ground or on the rocks, in sheltered sunny 
nooks, most days throughout the winter, is, I consider, one 
of the greatest advantages to health that the Riviera offers; 
not but that it is always prudent to have a cloak, a rug, or 



184 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

cushion underneath, and to use a good sunshade or parasol 
as a protection from glare and wind. By this means many 
hours may he passed out of doors on most days without 
fatigue. It is an amusement and a pleasure to look about 
for these sunny nooks, to find olive trees slanting in the 
required direction, so as to form a comfortable support to 
the back. Once found such spots become favourites, and 
are remembered. 

After some hours of such repose we rise refreshed, reno- 
vated by contact with the earth, eat better and sleep 
sounder. We are like the Titans in former days, the sons 
of the earth. When fighting with Jupiter they were 
repeatedly hurled to the earth, their mother, but each time 
they touched her they were endowed with fresh power for 
the fight; certainly the allegory conceals a truth. Or, a 
more modern and "scientific" theory maybe adopted; we 
may assume that we imbibe directly some of the earth's 
electricity, her vital fluid, and are thus directly vitalized. 

Quiet communion with nature is infinitely preferable to 
long fatiguing drives, and contributes much more to the 
improvement of health. A carriage used in this way gives 
an invalid the command of all the most beautiful scenery 
of the district, and I strongly advise all who can afford it 
to engage one for the season, the more so as carriages are 
both difficult to obtain and dear, if' taken for a day or a 
drive, just as in small country towns in England. Engaged 
by the month or season they are not more expensive than in 
Paris or London. A comfortable open carriage, with two 
horses, can be had, from either Mentone or Nice, for about 
thirty pounds or guineas a month, including the driver, 
and all expenses. There are now very tolerable hack cabs, 
open and shut, standing for hire, at a fixed tariff, opposite 
the Casino or Club in the town, but their rates are high, 
and the drivers are difficult to control, as they wish to be 
employed for the day. An omnibus runs from one end of 
the town to the other, at stated hours. 

Horses are but little adapted to the mountainous cha- 
racter of the country, and are so little patronized that 
they are not easily attainable. They may, however, be 
obtained from Nice by equestrians who are stationary long 






HORSES — DOXKEYS. 



185 



3 enough, 



to make it worth their 



enough, and are strorij 
while. 

Donkeys are the usual means of ascent to the picturesque 
mountain valleys and ridges ; mules are but little used. 
The able pedestrian commands the entire Mentonian 
amphitheatre ; but it is not so with the iuvalid, with ladies, 
children, and the weak generally. The ascents are often 
winding and steep, the roads mere broken tracks, and were 




THE DONKEY TT01EAN. 



it not for the donkeys, much of the most wild and pictu- 
resque scenery would be all but inaccessible to the invalid 
population. These animals are numerous, as every peasant, 
the owner of a few mountain terraces, keeps one as a beast 
of burden. Donkeys are as peculiarly suited to a rugged 
mountain district as the camel is to the desert. At Men- 
tone they are mostly fine, handsome animals, and more than 
usually docile and good-tempered, probably because they 
are well tended and treated with affection and kindness, 



186 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

instead of with contempt and brutality. The peasants 
always guide them by the voice, not by blows. It is inte- 
resting to see the self-possession and security of foot with 
which they descend the most precipitous paths, at one time 
sliding, as it were, on their haunches, in steep places, at 
another skipping like kids, although heavily laden. The 
donkey women are only the owners of the saddles, hiring 
the donkeys from the peasants. Hence the necessity of 




THE DONKEY BOY. 



bespeaking the donkeys over night, otherwise they are off 
to the mountains by early morn. 

The views are everywhere perfectly magnificent. The 
most beautiful and those that give the best idea of the 
district are those from the Cap Martin, and from my 
garden and rocks at Grimaldi. Although in my travels I 
have now all but encircled the Mediterranean, I have 
nowhere found any scenery that can be compared to them, 
with the single exception of the Dalmatian coast, as viewed 
from Corfu on a fine sunny day. But beautiful as it is, 
there is not the great variety of mountain heights presented 



MOUNTAIN VILLAGES— ST\ AGNESE. 187 

by the Mentone amphitheatre. I have been told that the 
sceneiy at Mentone is very like that of Madeira, only at 
Mentone there are several miles of level coast road along 
the sea-shore, which at Madeira are wanting. To get a 
thoroughly good idea of the district the stranger should 
take the drives which I have described, and then make an 
excursion on foot, or on a donkey, to the mountain villages 
of Roccabruna (one hour), Castellare (one hour and a half), 
Gorbio (two hours and a half), and St a . Agnese (three 
hours). The first can be reached in a carriage, the others 
only on foot or on donkeys. St a . Agnese, the most remote, 
is situated at the summit of the first back ridge. 

Roccabruna, Castellare, and St a . Agnese are mountain 
villages, founded by their inhabitants, ages ago, on account 
of the facilities they afforded for defence. Roccabruna is 
about 800 feet above the sea ; Castellare 1200, and St a . 
Agnese 2400. 

Until a recent period, the adjacent shores, and indeed 
those of the entire Riviera, were exposed to the constant 
attacks of the Mahommedan pirates of the south Mediter- 
ranean. For many centuries it was the Saracens, later the 
Turks and Moors of Tunis and Algiers, who periodically 
ravaged these coasts. Their forays were not for wealth, 
which the poor fishermen and labourers did not possess, 
but for slaves ; for the women were handsome, and the men 
strong. To withstand these attacks, the inhabitants of the 
towns chose defensible situations, such as the steep promon- 
tories and eminences on which Monaco, Esa, Mentone, 
Yentimiglia, and San Remo, are situated ; fortifying them- 
selves also with strong walls. The agriculturists sought 
safety by perching their villages on all but inaccessible 
heights, whence they could see their enemies approaching, 
and where they could easier defend themselves if attacked. 

There are still men alive at Mentone, who, in the early 
part of this century were seized on the coast by the Moors, 
and subsequently lived for years as slaves at Algiers and 
Tunis. That such should be the case is not surprising, 
when we reflect that piracy reigned supreme in the Medi- 
terranean until the year 1816, when Lord Exmouth 
bombarded Algiers, and that it was not finally extinguished 



188 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

until the French took possession of Algiers in 1830. At 
the time of Lord Exmoutlr's bombardment there were 
thousands of European slaves in the Algerine galleys. 
These slaves were mostly natives of the northern Mediter- 
ranean shores, taken at sea from the fishing boats and sailing 
vessels, or from the coast villages and towns by sudden 
forays. 

At St a . Agnese and Roccabruna there are the ruins of 
ancient castles. That of St a . Agnese must have been a 
place of considerable strength. Local traditions say that it 
was built by the Saracens, in order to keep in subjection 
the smiling districts which constitute the Mentonian am- 
phitheatre. Probably, then as now it was a garden, rich 
in olives, in oranges and lemons, and was considered a 
desirable conquest by the southern invaders. 

The castle of lloccabruna is evidently of much more 
recent date, although it £oes back to the Middle A^es. 
It recalls to mind the strongholds of " The Rhine Barons," 
and its possessors no doubt levied black-mail on those who 
travelled along the coast -road from Nice to Genoa. 
Although a mere mule track, this road must have been 
much frequented in .winter in the days when there was not 
a single carriage road across the Alps, and when winter 
rendered their snow-clad summits an all but impassable 
barrier. 

All along the coast to Genoa may be seen at intervals 
the ruins of watch-towers, erected in former times in posi- 
tions favourable to defence, or suitable for looking out. 
They evidently formed a part of the general system of 
protection everywhere necessary against the pirates. These 
towers, the old towns, pressed into the smallest possible 
space, and surrounded with walls, the villages perched on 
heights up to which the inhabitants had to toil wearily 
after the day's labour, all vividly point to times far different 
to the present. They tell of life passed in constant alarm, 
of eyes constantly turned with anxiety to the sea, from 
whence the human hawks were ever ready to pounce on the 
young, the handsome, and the strong — of hearts torn by the 
distant groans of relatives in chains in a distant land. Such 
thoughts have often passed through my mind when gazing 



MOUNTAIN VILLAGES — THE CASCADE. 189 

from some mountain height on the now peaceful scene 
below. Truly we, of the present day, have much to be 
thankful for ; our lot has been cast in much happier times. 
The good old times do not bear examination ; they were, 
everywhere, days of oppression, rapine, violence, and disease, 

A waterfall called the Cascade, in the Carei valley, is 
worth visiting. After rain there is a good fall of water, 
above a hundred feet high ; tumbling over vast masses of 
broken water-worn rocks, and forming charming pools. 
The prettiest road is through Castellare and skirting the 
lower part of the back range, over which the water de- 
scends. The return can be made down the Carei valley, 
by the Turin or Sospello road. It is a favourite place for 
ferns, and also for picnics. The road from Castellare, a 
donkey-track, taking the visitor to the centre of the back- 
ground of the Mentonian amphitheatre, affords many lovely 
views. The entire distance, there and back, is about nine 
or ten miles. 

In the immediate vicinity of the cascade there is a 
hermit's cave high up in the rock. Its very existence was 
a tradition until an English sailor climbed up a few years 
ago, and found some bones, utensils, a half- obliterated 
inscription, and a date, 1598. Since then it has been 
repeatedly reached by Scottish deer-stalkers and hardy 
mountaineers, but not without considerable risk. Indeed, 
I do not advise any one to attempt it. 

The view from the castle of Roccabruna is very beautiful, 
as also are those from Castellare, Gorbio, and St a . Agnese. 
They are all four mere mountain villages, inhabited by the 
peasantry who till the upper terraces, a simple, hard-work- 
ing race, who know but little of the world and of its doings. 
In these villages the cure, or priest, is the father of the 
flock, and the great man. 

From Gorbio to Roccabruna there is a donkey-track over 
the hills that leads through a very beautiful mountain 
district, with magnificent views on every side. From this 
road is well seen, skirting the mountain side, an aqueduct, 
which brings water to Roccabruna from a great distance. 
It was completed about twenty years ago. Before that the 
inhabitants of Roccabruna were very badly off for water., 



190 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

and depended all but entirely on their rain tanks. Now 
they have a good supply from a spring that is never 
exhausted. 

Those who are strong and well can go out in all weathers 
unless the rain fall in cataracts, but the invalid should 
keep at home when the wind blows hard, even from the 
south, and when the weather is broken. The detention 
seldom lasts more than two or three days, and it is a good 
occasion to write letters, always in arrear from the temp- 
tation the constant fine weather affords to out-door life. 
Indeed, invalids should live in weather-proof houses, like 
bees in their hive. If it becomes cloudy and rains in 
summer bees will be seen trooping home in great numbers. 
Every now and then one comes to the door to see how the 
weather is. If he reports rain over and sunshine they once 
more sally forth to rifle the flowers of their sweets. So 
should we do when ill and no longer tit to battle with the 
elements. 

Most of the places best suited for excursions are indicated 
on the map of Mentone, which has been drawn up with 
great care from the Italian ordnance survey. Let no one, 
however, imagine, says my friend Mr. Moggridge, " that 
when all have been visited he has exhausted the beauties 
of the immediate neighbourhood of Mentone ; on the con- 
trary, there is frequently an entirely new view to be had 
within 200 or 300 yards right or left of main paths, while 
each hill, little knoll, or gorge affords a variety in the 
scenery, either peculiar to itself, or in combination with 
the distant country. Passing beyond the limits of the map, 
the country becomes wilder and more grand, but many of 
the mountain valleys are rich beyond comparison in agri- 
cultural products. If ever there was a valley that did ' laugh 
and sing' it is that of Caiross, a tributary of the Koya. 
Here in June the rich alluvial soil is covered with abundant 
crops shouldering one another. Ascending from thence 
through a tine forest of Chestnuts, Pinus sylvestris, Abies 
excelsa, A. pectinata, Pinus cembra, and the Larch, a fine 
extent of grass land is reached, varying in height from 
5000 to 6000 feet. This is the eastern arrete of Auteon, 
and before it has been visited by the mower the blaze of 






MOON AND STAR LIGHT. 191 

wild flowers — many of them beautiful and rare — is almost 
too much for the dazzled sight. There is one gorge to which 
I would direct attention, because it is within reach of Men- 
tone — the gorge of Piaon, one hour's walk from Sospello 
(Hotel Carenco) on the road to Mollinetto. Two very pretty 
waterfalls greet you at the entrance : a little further the 
savage rocks, the broken forests, and the tossing, tumbling 
river give a succession of views ever charming, ever new, 
that are excelled only by the great gorges of the Roya. 
Many rare wild flowers may be gathered here even in the 
Men tone season."" 

The moon and stars are much more brilliant on the north 
shores of the Mediterranean than in our latitudes, owing 
no doubt to the great dryuess of the atmosphere, to the 
paucity of watery vapour. It is the same meteorological 
condition that makes the sunshine so brilliant and the sky 
so blue in the daytime. Thus the nights, generally, are in- 
describably beautiful ; the stars shine out with singular 
vividness, and the planets and larger stars make tracks of 
light in the sea like the moon with us. When, however, 
the moon is full, or even partly so, their brilliancy pales 
before her vivid rays. One of the favourite excursions, 
with the strong, is to go at night, when the moon is full, 
along the shore to the St. Louis ravine, as her rays then illumi- 
nate the deepest recesses of the ravine. I often myself sit 
at my window and watch the moon rising over the eastern 
mountains. Long before she appears at the summit of the 
ridge, the light thrown on the sky is all but that of day, 
and when she does show herself, each tree and shrub on the 
mountain brow becomes visible. The "track of light" on 
the sea is not a mere path, as with us, but a " river or flood"" 
of light. On one occasion I was sent for to Finale by 
telegraph, before the days of the railroad, and had to post 
along the coast on a beautiful night, with the moon at its 
full. For hours she shed her river of light on the sea, 
brilliantly illuminating a portion of its surface. I was en- 
tranced, could not keep my eyes from the stream of silver 
waves dancing in the moonbeams, and I fully comprehended 
and accepted a wild Canadian legend once read. A young 
man disappeared on his marriage night, and was tracked to 



192 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

the margin of the great Ontario lake, then frozen and covered 
with snow. A ball was taking place, and he had suddenly 
left his bride, his family, and his friends, in the midst 
of the festivities. He had taken his skates with him, 
fastened them to his feet on the margin of the lake, and 
seized no doubt with sudden insanity, had started off in 
the moon track, for it was full moon. His friends followed 
his traces for many miles, but were obliged at last to return 
to save their own lives. Sledges were then procured and 
sent off, but too late to save him. He was found dead and 
frozen some twenty miles from the shore ! 

The language spoken by the peasantry is a ' " patois/" 5 
semi-Italian, semi-French, but inclining to Italian. The 
proprietors and tradesmen all speak both Italian and French, 
but with them French now predominates, although it was 
not so when I first knew Mentone. The shop-signs, for- 
merly Italian, are now French. In feeling, the Mento- 
nians occupy about the same midway position, although 
their Italian sympathies predominate. At the time of the 
annexation they petitioned unanimously to be " left alone/' 
but their petition was not allowed to see the light. They 
are rather a handsome race, with Italian features, black 
hair, and dark eyes. Many very handsome young women 
are seen. 

As already stated, Mentone has made a great step in 
advance since 1 first drew attention to it as a winter sanita- 
rium. There are now some luxurious and many commo- 
dious villas to let furnisheci, and more are building. There 
are also many good first-class hotels and several boarding- 
houses, and second-class hotels. The rent of the villas 
varies from two to twelve thousand francs for the winter 
season. Most of the hotels take inmates "en pension/'' 
that is, boarders, and the terms for board and lodging vary 
from eight to twelve or fifteen francs a day, according to 
the character of the house. 

The proximity of Nice is a great advantage and resource 
not only to those who are well and strong, but even to in- 
valids. By means of the railway Nice may easily be 
visited between breakfast and dinner, and that without 
any real fatigue. Formerly, when the Turbia had to be 



NICE— THE NEW CLUB. 193 

crossed, Nice was all but inaccessible to the invalid popu- 
lation. 

Nice is a small southern capital, with its Italian opera 
and French theatre, its daily fashionable promenade and 
drive, its military band, and its swarm of gaily-dressed 
people. Most of the northerners who crowd there in the 
winter are not invalids at all ; they are the cured invalids . 
of former days, of all nations, to whom the southern 
winter sun has become a necessity. They are also speci- 
mens of the more restless of our countrymen and women, 
Anglo-Saxons, who, after wandering all over Europe for 
years, settle down at last for the winter at Nice, on 
account of its social attractions, because it is near home, 
and because letters reach in thirty-six hours. Our American 
cousins have also adopted Nice as a winter residence of 
late years, in great and yearly increasing numbers. 

Until latterly but few of the tribe of health loungers 
chose Mentone as a residence. The Mentonians were at 
first all real invalids, glad to. escape from the gaieties of 
Nice, as well "as from its dust and occasionally cold winds. 
Many, however, are becoming attached to this picturesque 
Mediterranean nook. It is thus beginning to attract mere 
sun- worshippers, and a- foreign population is gradually 
growing up, of the same description as that of Nice and 
Cannes. 

The inhabitants of Mentone are exceedingly gracious 
and cordial to strangers, tS&t are doi«g- their utmost, to 
render the place agreeablejB ' tkem. An elegant Cercle or 
club has been built in thepeentre t of the town, which is well 
supplied with newspapers. . It is open to visitors by sub- 
scription, and contains billiard, card, and- conversation 
rooms, and a good-sized, theatre and ball-room. On the 
shore, in the town, there is an esplanade, or sea-terrace, 
constructed in 18.61, and to* which the name of " Promenade 
du Midi" has been given. It is intended to continue this 
terrace as far as the Cap Martin ; when finished it will make 
a delightful sea-side promenade and drive. 

Each winter a series of elegant subscription balls are 
given by the members of the " Cercle," to which the 
visitors are invited. They are well attended by the French, 

o 



194 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

and also by many members of the English community, 
much to the gratification of the Mentonians. Various 
other plans for the improvement of the town and its vicinity 
are on the tapis. 

In the town some of the best houses of the principal or 
modern street are let in apartments, or flats, furnished or 
unfurnished. These apartments are not .so desirable for a 
residence as the suburban villas, but they are much more 
reasonable in price. 

During the last few years, I am happy to say that a 
considerable amount of attention has been devoted by the 
press at home to the hygienic state of southern health- 
resorts. As 1 consider myself in a great measure the 
originator of this feeling, being the first author on climate 
who has made hygienic conditions the chief basis of his 
researches, I am gratified to find that public opinion is 
beginning to awaken to these vital questions. One or two 
writers, however, have described Mentone as even more 
deficient in this respect than other sanitaria on the 
coast ; a most unfounded and unfair mistake. So far from 
this being the case, I do not hesitate to say that the 
hygienic state of Mentone is much better than that of any 
other sanitarium between Marseilles and Genoa, not from 
any peculiar forethought on the part of its inhabitants, but 
because its population, native and foreign, is smaller. 

The drainage of large towns involves one of the most 
difficult problems of modern civilization, one of as much 
importance to us in our northern isle as to the inhabitants 
of southern Europe. In the small primitive agricultural 
towns of the Ligurian coast, and of the south of Europe 
generally, the want of main drains is not felt. All the 
inhabitants are usually landed proprietors. Olive and Lemon 
trees, even in the sunny south, will not bear crops of fruit 
without manure, and where is it to come from in countries 
where there is little or no pasture unless it be from the 
homes of the proprietors? Hence, at Mentone and else- 
where, before the advent of strangers, the household drain- 
age was everywhere scrupulously preserved, placed in small 
casks hermetically closed, and taken up to the terraces on 
the mountain side every few days by the donkey which 






DRAINAGE IN THE SOUTH. 195 

most possess. There a trench was made round the base of 
a tree, the contents of the tub mixed with the soil, and the 
trench closed. Such is the primitive system followed also 
throughout Corsica and Sardinia outside of the two or three 
large towns. I have repeatedly been in what may be called 
feudal residences in the mountains of those lovely islands 
where no other system is known, and who can say that it 
is altogether bad ? Is it not deodorisation by earth, the 
return to the earth of all excreta, the solution in country 
places of the health question, c: What is to be done with it?" 

When, however, hundreds, nay thousands, of strangers 
pour into these little country towns, as they have poured 
into Hyeres, Cannes, Mentone, and San Remo, where large 
hotels are built, each containing more than a hundred people, 
and numerous villas occupied by large families, the state of 
things alters at once. Main drains, with collaterals, were 
not constructed before because they we're not wanted. Now 
that they are wanted, are they the right thing? If made, 
the only possible outlet is the sea-shore, and a very small 
amount of drainage thrown into little sheltered bays in an 
all but tideless sea like the Mediterranean would soon 
reproduce the polluted shores of Naples. 

After mature deliberation I have come to the conclusion 
that for villas and hotels, in gardens of their own, a good- 
sized cesspool, isolated from the house, with a sound venti- 
lating air-shaft run up alongside the chimneys to the top 
of the house, and a good manure pump attached to it, is 
the best plan to deal with the difficulty. This is what is 
attempted, but often imperfectly carried out, in these 
southern villas. Often there is no ventilating shaft at all, 
or the latter is not air-tight, and thus foul air passes into 
the house by the closets or through the walls. Then such 
a thing as a manure-pump is generally unknown. On some 
fine moonlight night the cesspool is opened, a little tub tied 
to a long pole is put down, and the contents are laboriously 
ladled into small casks. In the house in which I reside I 
made the landlord a present of a manure-pump from Lon- 
don, and now they do in one hour what used to take them 
two nights, and with one-twentieth part of the annoyance 
to the surrounding community. 

o 2 



196 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

This difficulty about drainage follows man everywhere, 
and possesses as much importance in England as on the 
Continent. London physicians are constantly sent for into 
the country to see cases of malignant disease, fever, diar- 
rhoea, which we know are the result of bad, drainage, and 
that in elegant country residences belonging to the gentry 
and nobility. It is a question whether the water out-of- 
sight-out-of-mind system, which has made us so fastidious 
on this score, has not done more harm than good. In nearly 
all modern country houses the closets are connected with 
what are called "percolating cesspools.". The fluid contents 
sink into the earth, and the solid alone remain, merely 
requiring to be cleared away every year or two. By degrees 
.the soil that separates the cesspool from the water level loses 
its deodorising power, and the fluid drainage contaminates 
the water of the adjoining wells. Then come fevers, putrid 
sore-throat, diphtheria, dysentery, which surprise every 
one in "so healthy a situation." I believe myself that the 
only perfectly safe drainage system for a country residence 
in England or elsewhere is either the old-fashioned garden 
closet of our farming population, regularly deodorised by 
earth according to Mr. Mode's plan — a decided improve- 
ment on the past — or a Roman cemented cesspool with a 
manure-pump at a distance from the house. From this every 
day or two an amount of drainage equal to what enters 
should be regularly pumped and applied to the garden lawn 
or land. 

The only way, however, to prevent towns, in such situa- 
tions as the Genoese Riviera, becoming unhealthy from the 
drainage of a redundant population is for them to remain 
small. It is therefore to be hoped that the winter emigrants 
from the north will disperse themselves over the entire 
Riviera, finding out and colonizing new sites. One con- 
valescent hospital, with 300 inmates, on a healthy common, 
such as that of Walton-on-Thames, may remain, with care, 
salubrious and health-giving". Put four, with a thousand 
inmates each, on the same locality, and it becomes a ques- 
tion whether it would be worth while for them to leave 
London. The excreta of man are poisonous, and all 
agglomerations of men tend to breed disease. The fallen 



ANGLICAN CHURCHES — CEMETERY. 197 

soldiers of civilization, the sick and ill from towns, should 
seek the country, trees, naked rocks, sparsely-inhabited 
districts. As an invalid myself, I would rather pass the 
winter in the pure air of Dartmoor than in the contami- 
nated atmosphere of large, filthy southern towns like Naples, 
Rome, and Malaga, where the average duration of life is 
low, where the healthy and vigorous cannot reach the 
ordinary medium duration of man's existence. By thus 
colonising a large area, likewise, the element of competition 
will be brought to bear, and it is the only means of putting 
an end to exorbitant demands from whomsoever they may 
come. 

Mentonli$ as an English colony, may be said to have been 
founded by the late Rev. Mr. Morgan, an English clergy- 
man, who settled there with his family at M'entone in 1857. 
The first English church, the one in the eastern bay, was 
built by subscription, under the sunerintendence of Mr. 
Morgan and of myself, and opened for divine, worship in 
1863. The Rev. Morant Brock, of Bath, is the present 
incumbent. .. 

The fact of this church having been built at an incon- 
venient distance from those who reside on the [ western 
side, has led to the erection of another and more elaborate 
and expensive church in the western bay, under the direc 
tion of the Rev. W.Barber, late of Leicester. The church 
is in the early style of the 14th century, and was built by 
the incumbent's son — Mr. W. Barber. 

The town of Mentone has presented to the Protestant 
community a plot of ground for a cemetery adjoining 
their own. It is situated on the eminence that crowns 
the old town, where a fortified castle reared its head in 
former times, the ruins of which may still be seen. It is 
a peaceful, picturesque spot, and is already the last home 
of many whose memory is dear to Mentonians. . It has been 
surrounded by a wall at the expense of the Protestant con- 
gregations, and a small mortuary chapel has been built, to 
which the mortal remains of those who have died in hotels 
can be removed and kept as long as the relatives wish. 
There is no law, as usually supposed, that renders prompt 
burial imperative in France. The law only rules that 



198 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

no person shall be buried in less than twenty-four hours 
after death certified by a medical man. But in hotels 
it is difficult to resist the " custom" of the country, which 
is in favour of prompt burial. 

A few years ago Mentone was merely a small Italian 
town, like the other towns on the Riviera, with but little 
power to supply the wants of foreigners, and especially of 
the English, who, wherever they are, expect to be made 
comfortable. Being accustomed to fare well at home, 
many of our countrymen when abroad, especially the un- 
travelled, fall into a state of extreme despondency if called 
upon to bear with coarse meat, sour bread, and bad butter. 
Every winter, however, has improved the markets, and now 
good bread, meat, poultry, eggs and butter, are to be had, 
although sometimes only with a little trouble and contri- 
vance. Each winter the supplies have improved in quantity 
and quality, especially since the railway has been opened. 
Many of the large hotels get their meat, poultry, and game 
regularly from Lyons, two or three times a week. 

The Mentonian amphitheatre itself produces little 
if anything beyond olive oil, lemons, oranges, and a few 
vegetables. The only good butter comes from Milan. 
Butter is made in the mountains, but probably not with 
the care and scrupulous cleanliness that are indispensable 
to insure its quality. That produced in the extensive 
pasturages which surround Milan, is well known all over 
the north of Italy, and is really very good. It comes by 
steamer from Genoa to Nice twice a week, and is supplied 
to Mentone from thence. Poultry reaches from all parts 
— froni the mountain regions around, from the coast 
towns, and even from Turin. Many fowls, turkeys, ducks, 
are brought by the diligence which travels daily beween 
Turin and Nice, passing over the Col de Tende. Game 
is to be had, but is expensive, with the exception of hares, 
which are reasonable in price. 

Fish was scarce and dear before the railway was opened 
to Nice. Now it comes in great abundance, by rail, from 
the Atlantic to Nice, and reaches Mentone in a good state 
of preservation, once the cool weather has set in. Thus 
soles, turbot, oysters, are then all but daily obtainable. 



PROVISIONS. 199 

The mutton is furnished by the surrounding mountain 
regions, and is really good. I have been told by Scotch 
gentlemen, good judges in such a case, that it is equal to 
the black-faced mutton of the Highlands. The lamb is 
killed too young, but is still very tender, and good food for 
invalids. The veal is also killed young, and is good. The 
beef is sometimes good, at others indifferent, as it is likely 
to be in a country where there are no pasturages, and where 
it must come from a great distance, principally from the 
plains of Piedmont. As the poor cattle have to walk all 
the way, along the coast or over the mountains, they are, 
of course, lean on their arrival, however good the breed, 
and it would not pay to fatten them. In former days the 
inhabitants of these regions seem to have been quite satisfied 
with the flesh of old cows and oxen. 

The expense of living at Mentone has quite doubled since 
I have known it, that is, within a period of fifteen years, 
and is now quite as high as at Nice and Cannes. This is, 
however, easily explained by the more luxurious style of 
living, and I cannot say that the inhabitants of Mentone 
are to blame. 

House rents have risen very considerably, owing to the 
demand having been very much greater than the supply, 
which raises prices all the world over. Many houses are 
now building, or in contemplation, which will no doubt 
tend to diminish rents, or at least to prevent further rise. 
Moreover, the neighbouring town of San Remo, also a good 
winter station, is beginning to be alive to the money value 
of foreign residents, and is making great efforts to please 
and secure them, opening hotels and building villas, which 
will create a salutary diversion. 

The cost of living has thus increased, but then the 
markets are infinitely better supplied, which accounts for 
the change. As I have been told by Mentonian hotel 
keepers, the dinners we positively require and exact every 
day at the hotels and " pensions" are to them festive 
dinners, which they never dream of unless to welcome 
friends for a marriage or a baptism. To provide this high 
standard of food to many hundred strangers, the country 
has to be ransacked for a hundred and titty miles around ; 



200 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

Genoa, Turin, Milan, Nice, are all put under contribution. 
In other words, our standard of living 1 , and that of our 
American cousins, is very much higher than that of con- 
tinental people in general, and especially of the inhabitants 
of southern Europe. We are so ready, likewise, as a nation, 
to go to any feasible expense to obtain what we want, that 
we inevitably double local prices wherever we settle in any 
number, and that all the world over. 

As year by year the number of winter visitors and resi- 
dents increases, their wants and requirements become better 
supplied ; the invalid population itself partly providing for 
them. Thus every winter brings invalid professors and 
artists, willing and able to make themselves useful. There 
is also a French communal college, the professors of which 
are all well educated, intelligent men, who teach French, 
Italian, and classics. 

For some years there has been a Book Club in connexion 
with Mudie's, which works very well. New books are 
received in November and January, and at the end of the 
season the surplus funds, are employed in the purchase of 
some of the more permanently valuable works. There is 
already a very fair collection of modern books in hand, as 
the nucleus of a library. 

There are several bankers at . Mentone, and English 
cheques are received and cashed at once with a proper 
introduction. The hotel-keepers, landlords, and principal 
tradespeople also accept cheques from well-known tenants 
and customers without any difficulty, as they easily get 
them cashed at the banks. Indeed, at first, this implicit 
reliance on English honour was carried too far. Cata- 
strophes connected with the proximity of Monaco have 
latterly made all parties more careful as to solvability. 

Mentone offers great attraction to invalided artists, for 
they can both attend to their health and study their art 
in midwinter in the open air. The scenery is glorious, and 
the play, of the sunshine and of light and shadow on the 
mountains, on the clouds, and on the sea, produces ever- 
varying effects, which entrance the artist's eye. Sometimes 
their professional services can be enlisted, and landscape, 
drawing, and painting classes are formed. 



THE RESIDENTS — THE VISITORS. 201 

A winter passed at Mentone is a drama, a little epitome 
of life. The place is so small, so separated by its mountain 
barriers from the rest of the world, and the number of 
resident strangers is so limited, that a kind of common tie 
binds them together. This feeling may not extend to the 
entire foreign community, but it is very strong among the 
members of the same nation. It is the same feeling of 
union, of a common origin and object, that exists among 
the passengers of a ship on a long sea voyage. It does not, 
of course, include passing strangers, the visitors from Nice, 
and those who only remain a few days or weeks in autumn 
and spring, on their way to or from Italy ; they are looked 
upon as strangers. The Mentonian family is composed of 
the winter residents, of those who have made up their 
minds to spend six months in the happy, smiling, Mentonian 
amphitheatre. 

In October the question is — who is coming ? In No- 
vember nearly all the winter residents have arrived, and 
have located themselves. Friends find each other; unfore- 
seen points of contact " at home" are brought out, and 
little groups are formed of intimates, of those who have the 
same ideas and sympathies. A kind of general notion also 
begins to get abroad as to who is the invalid in each family, 
and of the degree of illness. 

Owing to my recommendations having been followed by 
my medical brethren in England, very few extreme hopeless 
cases of illness, in the very last stage of disease, are now sent 
out, and there are few or no casualties among' the English 
during the first month or two. But it is very different 
with the French. 

By most of our countrymen and women the order to 
winter in the south is considered a boon, an opportunity of 
indulging the darling wish of seeing the world, and a real 
consolation in illness. To the French, on the contrary, it 
is the last drop of bitterness in the cup of sorrow. The 
French cling desperately to home, to family ties, and to 
their own country, in illness as in health, and can with 
great difficulty be persuaded to leave, however severe their 
malady. Perhaps, also, their medical men have not the 
same faith in change of climate that we have. Hence, 



202 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

each winter, I see French patients arrive in the last stage 
of phthisis — so ill, indeed, that their bearing the journey is 
a subject of surprise. A very few weeks after their arrival 
the last spark of vital power gives way, and they fall, like 
autumn leaves before the first blast of winter. They are 
gathered to their fathers, and the first wail of lament 
arises on the southern shore, where they have arrived only 
to die. 

Among the peculiar sights and ceremonies that meet the 
eye of a stranger on his first arrival in an Italian town — 
and Mentone really is Italian — none is more striking than 
the funerals of the dead. The male community is all but 
divided in two fraternities, that of the " Penitents Noirs," 
and that of the " Penitents Blancs." The former dress in 
a black gown, the latter in a white one, reaching to the 
feet, and with a girdle round the waist. They also wear a 
cowl of the same colour drawn over the head and face, 
leaving only the eyes to appear. They follow the priests 
and choristers, the former in full canonicals, two by two, to 
the number of fifty or a hundred, with a taper in their 
hands, chanting the psalms for the dead. Every one they 
meet stands still and takes his hat off. The appearance 
of the whole procession is very weird and imposing, not to 
say ghastly ; it is a homage paid by the living to the dead ! 

Then comes the close of the year, Christmas, with its 
home associations, and the new and wondrous sight of 
summer sunshine and Lemon blossoms, of large dragon- 
flies, and of other insects, pursuing each other in the sun, 
instead of the sleet and snow and gloom which we remember, 
and of which we read, in the fatherland. Sometimes, how- 
ever, snow tips even our mountains, and reminds us of 
home. But the contrast is then all the more striking, 
between the snow-crowned mountains which girt us, and 
the summer sunshine and summer vegetation by which we 
are surrounded. Later, comes the new year, welcomed at 
Mentone as in France, and the festivities of the Romish 
Church. Lent, the Holy Week, the Carnival, are all cele- 
brated according to the traditions of the Middle Ages, in a 
very picturesque manner, by the native population, as in 
the large towns of Italy. 



WILD FLOWERS. 203 

About the month of February the English community 
in its turn begin to suffer. Some of the invalids have 
struggled in vain for health and life. Change of climate, 
medical treatment, the devoted affection and tender care of 
friends, have in vain battled with the angel of death. His 
approaches although slow have been sure, and this life has 
to be abandoned for a better. These deaths cast a gloom 
on all the community. The departed have endeared them- 
selves to the survivors; they have lived amongst them, they 
have shared their joys, their sorrows, their exile feelings. 
The loss is felt to be a common loss ; it is that of the pas- 
senger who has lived for months in the same ship, sat at 
the same table, walked the same deck. 

At last March and April arrive, the glorious southern 
spring, the real spring of the old southern poets, of Homer 
aud Anacreon, of Horace, Virgil, and Lucretius. Our own 
northern poets, unconsciously imitating their Greek and 
Roman predecessors, describe spring as it is seen in Greece 
and Italy, not as it occurs in our boreal climate. Hence 
the feeling of irritation we all experience when every year 
with us spring arrives, and instead of balmy zephyrs and 
sunshine, with a profusion of Flora's companions, it only 
brings cold, biting north-east winds, often with sleet 
and snow and a frost-bound soil. At Mentone, with the 
exception of a few days of south wind and rain in March, 
the poetical spring has arrived. The Olive and Orange 
terraces are enamelled by nature with real garden flowers, 
and day after day troops of visitors, principally English, 
may be seen returning from mountain excursions, iiower 
laden. 

I would, in passing, earnestly request visitors not to 
pay the children and the donkey-women for seeking and 
bringing them flowers. Some of our more wealthy residents 
do so occasionally, without reflecting that by thus acting 
they are giving a market value to wild flowers. The result 
has been felt already. Peasants, who formerly delighted 
to allow children and strangers to gather the violets and 
flowers of no value whatever to themselves, begin to guard 
them jealously, and to drive off all who attempt to pick 
them. Were this to become general, half the charm of 



204 MENTONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

the mountain walks would be destroyed. I would also 
urge on all not to pull up flowers by the roots, or to allow 
children and servants to do so; and not to wantonly 
destroy and deface flowering shrubs, or to pull up rare 
Ferns not wanted for preservation. Otherwise the moun- 
tain valleys and terraces will soon become, in all accessible 
regions, a wilderness, and grow nothing but the vegetables 
sown in them. 

One of the great charms of a residence in the more 
sheltered region of the Riviera is that wild flowers, as we 
have seen, may be found throughout the winter. At the 
same time, until March has arrived, they do not grow 
with such profusion as to take away from the pleasure of 
searching and finding. It is singular that the love of 
flowers should characterize the two extremes of life, early 
childhood and advancing years. Between the two there 
is a stage of feverish interest in the world and its doings, 
that generally takes the mind away from the observation 
of nature and her works. The child cares not for kings or 
empires, for ambition or its toys, so it pours out its love 
and enthusiasm on " wild" flowers. The old, who have 
gone through all the pleasures and excitements the world 
can give, often return to the joys of their childhood, to 
nature's productions, and cultivate with love "garden 
flowers," in the company of which they find, a partial solace 
for all they have lost or failed to gain. 

It has been said, truly, that a love of flowers and of their 
cultivation is "the last infirmity of sober minds.''' Fortu- 
nate it is that such should.be the case, that as we advance 
in life even plain matter of fact people should find some 
earthly joys that do not pall, for age is often " weary to 
bear." We have to abandon, one by one, those who 
fostered and cherished our early steps, who shared our 
hopes and fears, who sympathized with us in our success, 
were pained by our failure. It is the penalty we must pay 
for living, to lose those with whom, life has been wrapped 
up, to find ourselves abandoned in our earthly pilgrimage 
in sad succession by those without whose companionship 
life itself often becomes hard to bear. 

As we advance in life we are like a regiment of soldiers 



THE END OF THE SEASON. 205 

storming a well-defended fortress on a hill. Oar comrades 
fall at our sides, and above the din of battle sounds 
the voice of the officer, calling', " Fall in, Serrez les rangs." 
So we do fall in, until if we get near the summit, but 
very few of those who were with us at the start remain at 
our sides. 

The sorrowing friends of the departed are gone. The 
survivors, improved both in health and spirits, are more 
keenly alive than ever to the harmonies and beauties of 
the sea, the sky, the mountains, and the earth. Plans for 
the future, which earlier in the winter appeared too 
uncertain to be contemplated, are once more taken into 
consideration, and the journey homewards is thought of. 
Moreover, Nice then sends to Mentone troops of healthy, 
pleasure-seeking people, strong, gay, and happy. They 
are merely anxious for novelty and mountain excursions, 
and desirous to escape the March winds, more trying with 
them than with us. 

Then comes the ' comparing of routes for the return 
home, of plans for the summer, and finally the leave-taking 
and departure. Most are sorry, at last, to leave the little 
sunny Mediterranean nook where they have spent many 
happy hours, and it is to be hoped recovered health, or at 
least arrested the progress of serious disease. In many 
cases more friendships have been formed than would have 
been formed in years at home, and the new and valued 
friends have to be abandoned as well as smiling Mentone. 
In many instances, however, the separation, both from 
friends and Mentone, is only a temporary one ; there is the 
hope of again meeting. 

To the physician, however, who practises in such a 
locality, among such a community, there is a bright side 
to departure. It closes an era of pain, of sorrow, of suffer- 
ing witnessed, alleviated it is to be hoped by his efforts, 
and certainly shared through sympathy. Away from 
country, family, and friends, the tie between the physician 
and his patients becomes very close, very strong, much 
more so than at home. Their social as well as their phy- 
sical sufferings and trials thus find in him a sympathetic 
echo, and his part becomes doubly trying. The actively 



206 MEN TONE IN ITS SOCIAL ASPECT. 

engaged physician is truly a stormy petrel. Where there 
is health and happiness, mirth and joy, he does not appear ; 
he has not the time, he is not wanted. His ministry begins 
when ill-health and sorrow show themselves As in the old 
fable he is always rolling stones up the hill ; once, however, 
the stone has reached the summit, it does not necessarily 
roll down again ! If he has to descend, it is to fetch a new 
stone, not the same ; so that, after all, he is better off than 
poor Sisyphus. I am profoundly conscious that one of 
my principal motives for perambulating the Mediterranean 
in April and May, like Ulysses of old, during the last 
fifteen years, has been to recover, by communion with 
nature, from the depression of feeling produced by six 
months' concentration of thought on sad forms of human 
suffering. The remedy succeeds. Every year I return to 
my English home " rejoicing," ready again to encounter 
the battle of professional life. 

Such is Mentone, physically and materially. I was so 
pleased with my first residence there that I should have 
at once decided on returning the following winter, had it 
not been for the love of change, which impelled me to 
search for a still better climate. This desire for change is 
a feature in the invalid population met with in the south of 
Europe. Change of scene is in some respects beneficial in its 
operation, by giving the mind fresh objects of interest, by 
taking the thoughts from self, and from the many sacrifices 
which health exiles from home, and their companions, have 
to make. The difference between the smiling sunshine of 
a Mentone-winter, a mere long English autumn, and 
our six months' dismal season is very great, and yet 
there are few of the cheerful Mentonian exiles who would 
not gladly return to our cloud-obscured island at any 
time, were it prudent and possible. 

The search after an unimpeachable climate, however, is, 
in some respects, like that for the philosopher's stone, for 
the elixir of life, or for the quadrature of the circle — a 
fruitless one. This will be exemplified by my travels in the 
Mediterranean and its islands, as detailed in the subsequent 
chapters. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

WESTERN ITALY— THE TWO RIVIERAS— EASTEEN ITALY. 

" Italy, how beautiful thou art ! 
Yet I could weep — for thou art lying, alas, 
Low iu the dust ; . . . . 

— But why despair ? . Twice hast thou lived already ; 
Twice shone among the nations of the world, 
As the sun shines among the lesser lights 
Of heaven ; and shalt again. The hour shall come 
Wheu they who think to bind the ethereal spirit 
Who, like the eagle cowering o'er his prey, 
Watch with quick eye, and strike and strike again 
If but a sinew vibrate, shall confess 
Their wisdom folly." .... 

Rogers' Italy. 

Although pleased with uiy first winter at Mentone, I was 
anxious, the folic wing* autumn (I860), to find a still better 
climate, and, like most invalids, I thought I might as well 
see the world, and thus combine pleasure and profit. Like 
most invalids, also, I wavered between many places. 

As long as pulmonary consumption was considered a 
species of inflammatory disease of the lungs, a warm and 
rather moist winter climate was considered right for 
consumptive sufferers. But now the more enlightened 
members of the medical profession know that tubercular 
disease of the lungs is in reality a malady of the blood and 
of the digestive system, a disease of lowered general vitality, 
and that death can only be avoided by the renovation of 
the general health. What I had to look for, therefore, 
was a dry, sunny, mild winter climate, in or near Europe, 
presenting advantages as great, if not greater, than recently 
discovered Mentone. 

I therefore determined this time to turn my steps towards 
Italy, and to critically examine the Eastern Riviera, Pisa, 



208 THE EASTERN RIVIERA. 

Rome, Naples, and the more southern coast of Italy. 
Guided by a previously acquired personal knowledge of the 
country, by the information obtained during the preceding 
winter, and by the reports of other observers and writers, 
I felt sanguine as to rinding in Italy an " Eldorado" com- 
bining all the advantages of which I was in search. 

In former days, in the days of health and strength, 
Italy exercised over me, as over all those whose minds are 
imbued with the history of the past, an indescribable fasci- 
nation. Several' times I escaped from the busy scene of 
professional life, and rushed to visit its cities and plains. 
Its classical, historical, and artistic souvenirs and attrac- 
tions threw over it a charm that never palled. I then 
purposely threw aside the physician, in order to see nothing 
but ruins, battle-fields, paintings, and statues. Sickness 
and human decay appeared a profanation, and I strove to 
forget them, so as to bring back none but pleasurable re- 
miniscences. 

Naples was the southern city, lying on the lovely bay 
where rises fire-crowned Vesuvius, where the revealed cities 
of Herculaneum and Pompeii, Baise, the Islands of Capri 
and Ischia recall a thousand recollections. Rome was the 
former queen of the world, the cradle of Christianity, still 
studded with innumerable vestiges of its ancient grandeur. 
Florence was " La Bella Firenze" of Dante, the home of 
the Medici, the abode of countless artistic treasures. Pisa 
was the birthplace of Galileo, where the lamp that first 
revealed to him, when a youth, the laws of the pendulum is 
yet to be seen oscillating in the glorious cathedral. Whilst 
Genoa was the proud commercial city of former days, still 
grandly overhanging the sea it once ruled, still full of 
monuments and palaces. 

This time the scene had changed. I returned to Italy 
an invalid in search of health, and the arts sank into 
insignificance, whilst hygiene, climate, and health ques- 
tions ruled the day. With views thus altered, dif- 
ferent impressions were produced, and important medical 
facts became -evident, which, as a tourist, I had not 
perceived. 

I entered Italy by Mount Cenis, and although it was 



GENOA. 209 

only the 20th October, there was a great deal of snow on 
the mountains, and it was very cold in the higher regions. 
Indeed, the weather was much too cold for chest invalids, 
who, if they cross the Alps should do so earlier. 

Genoa is not so much a medical station as a resting-place 
for travellers and invalids entering or leaving Italy. Its 
situation is admirable, at the angle of the gulf formed by 
the eastern and western Rivieras, protected by mountains, 
and exposed to the south-western sun. Hence it is very 
warm in summer, but in winter the protection afforded by 
the Apennines is incomplete, owing to a " defect in its 
armour." Behind Genoa the Apennines present valleys, 
through which the railroad from Turin has managed to 
find its way, and through which also the north-east wind 
reaches the town when winter has fairly set in on the 
plains of Lombardy. Still the protection is sufficient to 
make the climate perfectly different to that of these plains 
in autumn and. spring. On the 22nd of October there was 
a heavy cold fog when I left Turin, which continued until 
we reached the mountain passes, completely obscuring the 
horizon ; winter was everywhere, the trees leafless, and 
the soil denuded. The fog had left us when we emerged 
from the first tunnel, and the air had become clear, dry, 
and bracing. On escaping from the last tunnel, near 
Genoa, we had gone back to midsummer ; the sky was 
blue, the sun bright, the air warm, the windows and doors 
were -wide open, and the outdoor life of Italy was in full 
operation. It was indeed difficult to believe that half an 
hour — the passage by a tunnel through a mountain — 
could be attended with such a change in the aspect of 
nature. 

Genoa presents two great disadvantages ; it is a densely 
populated city, and, like all Italian towns, badly drained, 
and unhvgienically built. In all large towns in Italy, 
Turin excepted, the streets are very narrow, generally only 
a few feet wide. The object was no doubt twofold : firstly, 
to provide for the exigencies of fortification, and secondly, 
to exclude the sun, the summer enemy. The towns and 
villages now found in the south are all historical ; there 
are no cities like the busy thriving Lancashire marts, the 

p 



'210 THE EASTERN RIVIERA. 

product of manufacturers' activity in modern times. The 
towns and villages are those of the Middle Ages, and as 
such circumscribed within walls and fortifications, and 
perched upon heights for protection, just as they were 
hundreds of years ago. Such a style of architecture is 
proverbially unhealthy, especially in the south, amongst a 
population to whom the cleanliness and the exactions of 
modern civilization are as yet but little known. To crown 
the whole, the principal hotels at Genoa are on the port, 
the receptacle of what drains there are, and tideless, as are 
all ports in the Mediterranean. 

Owing to the above causes, although to the traveller one 
of the most picturesque and interesting towns of the 
Mediterranean, the native city of Columbus is not a 
healthy abode. The invalid, therefore, had better not 
prolong his stay, unless he have the command of a garden- 
surrounded villa in the suburbs. In the hotels it is better 
to choose the higher stories, as the higher the rooms 
occupied the purer the air,' and the less likely is the 
occupant to suffer from atmospheric impurity. 

I must remark, that throughout the Continent the 
traveller, ill or well, should leave the window more or less 
open at night, the air of the staircases and passages being 
all but invariably very impure, even in the best hotels. If 
the window is not opened at night, the bedchamber is 
supplied from this vitiated source, foul air is breathed, and 
typhus fever often generated. I believe that the numerous 
travellers who every year mournfully die all over the Con- 
tinent of " gastric fever," as it is amiably called, away 
from home and relations, are mostly poisoned in this way. 
If the window is even slightly opened, pure air is admitted, 
instead of the foul air of the passages, and this danger is 
avoided, or at least diminished. Pure air can do no harm, 
night or day; night air is only injurious to those who 
expose themselves to it out of doors, without sufficient 
clothing, or in bad or delicate health. 

Descending the eastern Riviera, the first town or village 
of any importance is Nervi, a station much esteemed by 
the physicians of the north of Italy for consumptive 



XERVI — CHIAVAEI SPEZZIA. 211 

patients. Nervi is better protected than Genoa by the 
mountains, which approach nearer the coast, and being 
small, principally composed of one long street along" the 
shore, it is free from the hygienic objections to which 
Genoa is exposed. Nervi does not, however, appear to me 
to present any peculiar recommendation to strangers. The 
vegetation is that of the entire Hiviera coast, and does 
not indicate an exceptional climate. The position is not 
peculiarly picturesque, and I believe the accommodation to 
be found is essentially Italian, which does not in any 
respect satisfy the English. There is, however, a boarding 
and lodging-house, under the direction of an English 
physician of Genoa, principally supported by the English. 
The proximity of Nervi to Genoa and Turin appears to be 
its principal recommendation. 

.Chiavari, the next town, is situated along the sea-shore, 
in pretty much the same conditions as Nervi, and presents 
no feature calculated to arrest attention. 

Sestri, further on, is an exceedingly picturesque town, 
on the margin of a small bay, and at the foot of a high 
spur of the mountain chain, which runs into the sea. But 
it faces the north-east, and is screened from the south by 
the spur in question, so that it loses all claim to be con- 
sidered a winter sanitary station. 

The road, which gradually becomes very bold and pic- 
turesque, then crosses the mountain, and descends on 
Spezzia. I had retained from former travel a very high 
idea of the beauty of La Spezzia, and was quite prepared 
to make it my winter residence had I found the climate 
bear scrutiny ; such, however, was not the case. Toe 
town is situated at the foot of a magnificent gulf seven 
miles in depth, bordered on each side by mountains of con- 
siderable height. The mountains also extend far inland 
behind, but they are not sufficiently high to intercept the 
north-east winds. As a necessary result of this mountain- 
surrounded situation, at the base of a deep, narrow gulf, 
there is a great deal of rain throughout the winter, and the 
weather is often rather cold, as shown by the vegetation. 
Moreover, there are marshes of considerable extent at the 

P £ 



212 THE EASTERN RIVIERA. 

foot of the hills which surround the town, and in the 
autumn malaria is rife. 

The gulf itself is very lovely, and contains on both its 
shores several pretty villages, much more sheltered and 
picturesque than the town. Thus Lerici, about five miles 
from Spezzia, on the southern shore, lies cosily in a small 
bay, at the foot of a sloping hill six hundred feet high. At 
the southern extremity of the bay, on a high promontory, 
are the well-preserved remains of a strong fortress, the 
Castle of Lerici, celebrated in mediaeval history. It be- 
longed to the family of Tancredi the crusader, and Francis 
the First of France was confined there, after being made 
prisoner at the battle of Pavia. There is still a lineal 
descendant of the great Tancredi living in the village, but 
he is merely a small peasant proprietor, no longer the 
owner of even the ruins of the proud castle built by his 
ancestors ! 

On the other side of the promontory which forms the 
north side of the bay is a factory for smelting lead, princi- 
pally supplied from the lead mines of Sardinia. It was 
formerly managed by an Italian company, and proved a 
losing concern. It then passed into the hands of an 
English gentleman, a friend of mine, and under his ener- 
getic direction it has become a most valuable property. I 
passed several days with him and his family at his hos- 
pitable villa on the brow of the Lerici hill, overlooking the 
pretty bay, the gulf, the islands at its entrance, and the 
opposite coast. Under the guidance of his amiable 
daughters, who brought up partly in Italy partly in 
England unite the most pleasing characteristics of both 
nations, I boated, roamed about on the olive terraces and in 
the Ivy and Lycopodium clothed lanes, lay discoursing, 
musing on the beach, or pic-niced among the ruins of the 
castle, until I thoroughly understood the love of Shelley 
for this smiling spot. The house that Shelley occupied is 
on the shore close to the sea, near the village. It is a 
square old-fashioned Italian villa, which, with its surround- 
ings, must have thoroughly suited Shelley's poetical medi- 
tative temperament. The local tradition is that his death 



MASS A CARRARA — PISA. 213 

was not the result of an accident, but that his yacht was 
purposely run down by some piratical fishermen for the 
sake of what booty they could get. 

During these few days I thus had an opportunity of 
narrowly surveying the vegetation of the locality, one of 
the most sheltered spots of the eastern Riviera. I found 
it the same as that of the western Riviera, but with 
differences that indicated a lower temperature in winter — 
more frost. There were no Lemons, the Orange-trees were 
small, and only in the most sheltered corners; and Helio- 
tropes, fancy Pelargoniums, delicate Cactacese, were not 
living and flourishing out of doors. Still it is a very lovely 
spot, and I left it with regret. No doubt the comfort and 
charm of the Anglo-Italian nest into which my good 
fortune had led me contributed to this feeling. 

Between Spezzia and Pisa there is only one spot worth 
mentioning, and that is Massa Carrara. The town is 
small and clean, open to the south-west and protected from 
the north-east by the high mountains in which the marble 
is worked. The Orange-trees appeared larger and healthier 
than on any part of this coast. It must be an exceptionally 
good winter station for the eastern Riviera, and there is a 
good, clean, comfortable hotel. But it is a dull little place, 
having no view of the sea, although near it. Neither here 
nor anywhere else along this coast did I see the luxuriant 
Lemon- groves of Mentone. Indeed, the protection afforded 
by the mountains which form the backrgound of the Men- 
tone region is infinitely superior to anything met with 
along the eastern Riviera between Genoa and Pisa. The 
vegetation is, consequently, more southern, and indicates a 
much higher degree of winter temperature, at and near 
Mentone. 

This time I examined Pisa attentively under the climate 
and hygienic point of view only, and left it with a most 
unfavourable impression, thoroughly confirmed by subse- 
quent visits and experience. Pisa is situated in an open 
plain, some miles from the mountains which protect it. 
This plain does not show the slightest evidence of southern 
vegetation ; it does not even contain the Olive-trees so 



214 WESTERN ITALY. 

common along the coast and on the adjoining 1 hills. No- 
thing is seen but the dry mop-headed deciduous Mulberry, 
with Vines, like old ropes, trailing from them. The town 
is surrounded by a very high wall, which must impede 
ventilation ; the streets are narrow, sunless, damp, and cold. 

The far-famed Arno, which passes through the city, 
forming an arc, is a mere ditch or moat, like the moat of 
an old fortified town in the north of France, with stones 
instead of grass, and a sluggish dirty stream meandering at 
the bottom ; it is in reality a mere species of open main- 
drain. The quarter of the invalids is a quay on the bend 
of this moat river, about a mile long, and bordered by 
gloomy third-rate houses. Here they are condemned 
to walk up and down, looking at the stones and dirty 
water below them, occasionally swollen into a yellow tor- 
rent by the rains. The sunless streets are so chilly that 
chest patients are seldom allowed to go into them ; the 
country around is a mere dull, denuded plain, which even a 
southern sun cannot enliven. Moreover, it is often very 
cold at Pisa, more so than at Home, there are often fogs 
on the Arno, and it rains constantly in winter. 

To crown all, Pisa is an unhealthy town to its inhabitants, 
like Genoa, Florence* Home, Naples and all these ill-built, 
ill-drained, dirty, wall-cramped southern cities. The average 
duration of life is twenty-nine years at Pisa and Florence, 
and twenty-eight only at Home and Naples ; whilst in Paris 
it is thirty-nine, and in London forty-four. For corrobo- 
rative evidence on these points I w 7 ould refer to the chapter 
devoted to Pisa in Dr. Canere's highly esteemed work, 
entitled " Le Climat de 1' Italic" 

All experienced physicians attach extreme importance to 
the influence of the mind over the body. A cheerful, happy 
frame of mind favours the digestive processes, tends to 
promote sleep, and thus counteracts the influence of disease. 
The dreary, cheerless monotony of stones and mortar at 
Pisa, with its ditch river, must exercise a most unfavourable 
influence on invalids exposed to it for month after month. 
Once the magnificent cathedral, the far-famed leaning 
tower, and the Campo Santo, or cemetery, have been 
explored, there is literally nothing for the invalid to do. 



FLORENCE. 2 1 5 

There is, it is true, the university, where many learned and 
celebrated professors hold forth, but its scientific collections 
and its lectures are only interesting to students, or to men 
of scientific and literary tastes. Even to th'em I question 
whether the university would not be a snare instead of a 
boon. Indoor work of any kind, mental or bodily, and 
close ill-ventilated lecture- rooms, they should avoid. 
Lounging botanical or geological rambles, or such reading 
as can be carried on sitting out in the open air, should 
aione be allowed. 

When the present pages were first written (1860) a rail- 
road along the eastern Riviera was not even thought of. 
Now (1874) it is an accomplished fact, from Genoa to Pisa, 
with the exception of the mountainous region between Sestri 
and Spezzia, where there is a break, soon to be filled. Those 
who are travelling for pleasure should, however, reject the 
allurements of the rapid railway journey, take a comfort- 
able vetturino carriage, and sleep one or two nights on the 
way, say at Sestri and Massa Carrara. The sea-coast, 
mountains, and roads are very lovely; indeed, the scenery 
by road is only a degree inferior to that of the western 
Riviera. On the railroad the exquisite beauty of nature is 
all but entirely lost; for the line is constantly either passing 
through a tunnel or over hi^h viaducts. Some of these 
viaducts will bear comparison with the high level bridge at 
Newcastle-on-Tyne, and are not much more fascinating. 
No one who has merely travelled along this coast by rail 
can have the faintest idea of its real beauty. At Sestri I 
had to take a carriage to cross a spur of the mountain, 
which here runs down to the sea, and the change was an 
inexpressible relief. Once more I experienced for a few 
hours all the delight of old days' travelling, as we ascended 
picturesque hills, winding along their sides, and rapidly de- 
scended by zigzag roads into precipitous ravines. I was sorry 
when we reached Spezzia, where the rail had to be resumed. 
From Spezzia the road to Pisa leaves the coast, and crosses the 
plains of Tuscany ; it is not, therefore, of so much importance 
what style of travelling is adopted. 

Florence is not a winter residence for invalids; it is a 
mountain town, and much too cold. From Pisa you pass 



216 WESTERN ITALY. 

through thirty miles of valleys and mountains to reach it, 
and once there, you are surrounded by mountains on every 
side, many of which I have seen covered with snow early 
in November. The north wind, or tramontana, is also very 
trying to invalids when it blows, which is often the case. 
In 1872—^3 skating was continued for a fortnight on the 
frozen Arno. 

Rome is a winter residence for healthy tourists, not for 
invalids; malaria reigns there, more or less, all the year. 
Every winter it makes victims, even among the healthy, 
and the medical practitioners who have been settled there 
for years say that malaria fever complicates, more or less, 
nearly every form of disease, slight or severe, that occurs, 
even during the winter months. When the north wind — 
the tramontana — blows, which is not un frequently the case 
for several days together, it is very cold. Moreover, invalids 
should scrupulously avoid churches, galleries, vaults, cata- 
combs, festivities, and parties — and what is Rome without 
these, the life of the Eternal City ? — merely a temptation 
and a snare. I may add that all that has been said about 
the defective drainage, and general unhealthiness of Genoa 
and Pisa equally applies to Florence and Rome. 

Thus I had to continue my pilgrimage, and started from 
Civita Yecchia for Naples. I did not intend to remain 
there, but to go on to Salerno, the celebrated medical school 
of former days, which is near and admirably situated. I 
also wished to carefully examine the bay of Gaeta, of the 
smiling and all but tropical luxuriance of which I had 
retained a very pleasing recollection. These plans, however, 
were not to be carried out. I once more saw the bay of 
Gaeta, it is true, but under circumstances which made any 
exploration an impossibility. 

Many years previously, after making a pleasure tour in 
Italy, and visiting Naples for the first time, with unclouded 
delight, I started for Leghorn in an old steamur called the 
Virgilio. It was a beautiful autumnal afternoon, and the 
magnificent bay of Naples was perfectly calm, like a mirror. 
As we steamed gently past old Vesuvius, the classical coast 
of Baise, and the beautiful Island of Ischia, we all remained 
on deck, entranced with the glorious scene. On passing out 



A STORM— GAETA. 217 

of the bay the bell rang for dinner; no one dreamt of being 
ill, and we all sat down, a merry English party, for nearly 
all were English tourists returning to fatherland. 

But alas ! unconscious victims to Neptune, we knew not 
that the September equinoctial gales were due, that the 
barometer had fallen half an inch that afternoon, that the 
captain and seamen were anxious, and that we were destined 
to dire torments. When we reached the deck again the 
scene was already changing. The sea and wind were rising, 
and before nightfall we were in one of the worst storms 
that had been known for years. Our steamer was old and 
slow, not able to accomplish more than six knots an hour 
in fair weather. With the wind all but dead against us 
and a raging sea, her performances were anything but 
satisfactory. In twenty-four hours we only made about a 
hundred miles, and the storm continuing with unabated 
fury, and our fuel being all but exhausted, we had to turn 
about, to retrace our steps, driving before the wind, and to 
make for the port of Graeta as a refuge. 

Gaeta we eventually reached, to our inexpressible satis- 
faction, about seven o'clock in the evening of the following 
day, and fondly hoped that we were at the end of our 
troubles. But in this we were very much mistaken. The 
port is a military port, and according to the rules of those 
days, at 6 p.m. all communication with the shipping ceased. 
So strictly was this rule enforced, that although thus driven 
in by stress of weather, with women and invalids on board 
very ill, we were not allowed to land. Provisions and coals 
were even denied us until the opening of the port the next 
morning, and until orders from the Government at Naples, 
twenty miles distant, had been received. We were thus 
obliged to spend the night riding with one anchor in a 
perilous, exposed anchorage, with fires out for want of fuel, 
and in great danger of being blown out to sea and dashed 
against the rocks. As to provisions, if received, but few 
could have done honour to them. 

By ten o'clock next morning orders had been received 
from head-quarters to allow the "very dangerous crew' - ' of 
the Virgilio to land, so boats were sent to the ship, and a 
file of soldiers were drawn up on the beach. We were then 



218 WESTERN ITALY. 

landed between two rows of the soldiers, and marched off 
on foot, like so many convicts, to the town hall to have 
our passports overhauled. The storm was over, the sun 
shining* gloriously, aud by this time, after a forty-four 
hours' fast, we had become ravenous, and implored our 
military escort first to take us to a cafe, for breakfast. 
Our entreaties and objurgations were, however, all in vain. 
We were, I presume, considered dangerous people, vile 
liberals, revolutionists, not to be allowed to come in contact 
with the loyal inhabitants of Gaeta. We were therefore 
dragged ruthlessly before the "authorities," thence taken 
in the same military, or convict, style to the gates of the 
town, bundled into carriages, and, with a soldier on each 
box, driven to Mola di Gaeta, a village at the bottom of 
the bay. Here we arrived at midday, and, free at last from 
our escort, were allowed to repair the wants of nature. This 
repast was, I think, even more mirthful and pleasant than 
the one we had partaken of some forty-eight hours before 
in the bay of Naples. We were all sick of the sea, and 
separated to find 'our way homewards as best we could. 

I and two of my companions determined, as a compensa- 
tion for past hardships and dangers, to make a comfortable 
and leisurely progress. We got a carriage from Naples, 
and posted all through Italy, merely travelling between 
brtakfast and a late dinner. This most enjoyable journey 
from Gaeta to Chambery has remained in my memory, 
marked with a white stone. The weather was lovely, the 
country glorious, my companions cheerful, witty, and 
pleasant, and every now and then the sight of our late 
enemy the sea added a very delightful sense of security to 
cur enjoyment of the scene. I may add, that from that 
moment I became a most irreconcilable enemy to King 
Bomba of Naples, of whose hospitality to shipwrecked 
travellers I had had such a charming illustration. 

Since this memorable expedition I have often made 
coasting voyages in the Mediterranean, but I have never 
again been caught in an actual storm. Firstly, I avoid the 
proximity of the equinoctial gales; and secondly, I carry 
an aneroid barometer with me, and consult it for two or 
three days before I embark, with the assistance of Admiral 



GAETA — THE SIEGE. 219 

Smyth's and Admiral Fitzroy's instructions. If the state 
of things is at all suspicious — that is, if the barometer is 
falling- gradually — however fine, I remain on shore. I have 
thus several times avoided severe storms which I should 
otherwise have encountered. 

On the present occasion we had left Civita Vecchia 
overnight, on one of the French steamers, for Naples. At 
five o'clock in the morning we were awakened in our berths 
by the steward, who told us that the steamer had run into 
Gaeta with despatches for the French fleet, and that it was 
worth while going on deck. We all dressed rapidly, and 
when we reached the deck a sight met our eyes which can 
never be forgotten. We were in the well-remembered bay, 
the haven of former days, and I could have fancied that I 
was still in the YirgiUo, at anchor, before the small pro- 
montory-crowned town. The night was clear and starlight, 
and so illuminated by a moon nearly full, that every feature 
of the mountainous coast came out clearly, as it had done 
during the dreary night-watch in times gone by. But the 
scene was very different, for one of the great events of 
modern Italian history was being enacted before us. My 
former inhospitable host, Ferdinand the First, of inglorious 
memory, was dead, after suffering in his latter days, through 
dire disease, some of the agonies he had inflicted on so many 
innocent political victims. His son and successor, Ferdinand 
the Second, as a retribution for his father's misdeeds, was 
cooped up with the last remnant of his army in the fortress 
of Gaeta, then before me. 

Gaeta crowns a rock several hundred feet high, which 
terminates a promontory, the northern limit of the bay 
and port of that name. The walls, the forts, the houses 
and the churches, built of white stone, shone in the calm 
moonlight. There were scarcely any lights to be seen, 
and the town appeared calm and asleep, as it were. But 
we knew that few of its inhabitants were asleep that night, 
lor great events were taking place. Thousands were lying 
sick with fever and dysentery within its walls, and it also 
contained a king at bay, surrounded by a terror-stricken 
court — a king whose crown was escaping from his feeble 
hands. 



220 WESTERN ITALY. 

At the foot of Gaeta, on the promontory that connects 
the town with the mainland, were many bivouac fires. 
They indicated the encampment of some thousands of royal 
troops, for whom there was no room in the town, and whose 
presence served to protect it. Then a mile of darkness, 
and beyond, nearer the curve of the bay, glared in the dark 
a more extended collection of bivouac fires, covering the 
shore and hillside to a considerable extent, and indicating 
the presence of a much larger body of troops. These con- 
stituted the Sardinian army besieging Gaeta. 

In the bay, a few hundred yards from us, lay a number 
of French men-of-war, brilliantly illuminated. All their 
portholes were open, and from each porthole proceeded a 
blaze of light; the guns were shotted, and the gunners 
were beside them ready to fire. A mile or so beyond the 
French fleet, thus prepared for battle, we could perceive 
another dark mass, formed of large ships, with but few 
lights ; this was the Sardinian fleet. We were gazing 
with astonishment and interest at this dramatic scene, 
when a boat, manned by six sturdy seamen, left the French 
admiral's ship, and rapidly approached us. Several per- 
sons came on board our steamer, and we soon learnt the 
meaning of what was passing. 

The previous day the Sardinian army had left Mola di 
Gaeta, and made a vigorous attack on the Neapolitan 
army in front of Gaeta. The Sardinian fleet had entered 
the bay, advanced along the coast, and supported the land 
troops very efficiently by its fire. The army of King 
Ferdinand, and the fortress of Gaeta itself, were placed in 
great jeopardy by the combined attack of the Sardinian 
land and naval forces, when the French admiral intimated 
to the Sardinian admiral the order to stop, threatening to 
fire and sink his vessels if he advanced. It was to support 
this threat that the preparations we saw were made; the 
gunners had been at their guns all night, ready to fire had 
the Sardinian fleet advanced. This extraordinary and 
uncalled-for step on the part of the French caused the 
greatest astonishment throughout Europe ; it arrested the 
progress of the Sardinians, and was the means of delaying 
the fall of Ferdinand II. for several months. We carried the 



NAPLES — THE CHTAJA. 221 

news to Naples, where it appeared to excite an all but 
universal feeling of alarm and indignation. 

Naples exhibits the concentration of all the unhygienic 
conditions previously alluded to. More than 600,000 
southerners are living in an extremely confined space, in 
high houses, in damp sunless streets, and the drains all 
run into the tideless sea. In the most fashionable part of 
the town, in front of the houses and hotels occupied by the 
nobility and by strangers, is a narrow public garden, the 
fashionable promenade, " the Villa Reale," running for a 
mile along the shore. On this shore eight public drains 
empty themselves into the sea ; the largest of these drains 
is opposite one of the chief hotels, and is often so offensive 
that those who are alive to these questions feel inclined to 
take a run in passing. 

On the land side of the Villa K,eale is the main drive, or 
street, " the Chiaja," and on each side of the pavement, as 
in most other streets, there are large slits in the road every 
few feet, a foot long and about an inch broad, to allow the 
rain-water to escape into the drains, which thus freely 
communicate with the exterior. It is between these shore 
drains on the one side, and the drain-ventilated street on 
the other, that fashionable Naples daily promenades, and it 
is by the side of this choice region that nearly all our 
countrymen live, and not un frequently die. 

The picturesqueness of Naples life, closely analysed, is in 
a very great measure that of filth and rags. The pic- 
turesque fishermen pass their lives fishing at the mouth of 
these sewers. The picturesque lower orders eat, drink, and 
sleep, as it were, in public, windows and doors open, if 
they have any. Many are clothed in rags, which they 
appear seldom to take off until they fall from them, and 
they are infested with vermin, which they scratch off each 
other at the street-corners. The town, moreover, is sur- 
rounded by pestilential marshes, and is built on a tufa rock, 
or kind of pumice-stone, so porous that it lets the rain 
soak in twenty feet, to give it out in dry weather by 
degrees. Thus, in winter, moss grows wherever the sun 
does not reach. 

A few days after my arrival in November, the autumn 



222 WESTERN ITALY. 

rains commenced with a warm oppressive scirocco, or south- 
east wind. The torrents of rain that fell in the first twelve 
hours washed the streets and drains of their accumulated 
abominations into the sea. The waves and the surf, on 
the other hand, drove them back again and again on the 
shore, whilst the wind, rushing* up the drains, escaped 
through the rain openings in the streets, and through the 
open closets in the houses. The smell throughout the 
entire lower part of the city was awful, and a considerable 
portion of the population was at once affected with 
abdominal pains, diarrhoea, and even dj^sentery. I was 
one of the first victims, and after nearly three weeks'' 
suffering from the latter disease, I abandoned all idea of 
exploring Salerno and the South of Italy. I had only one 
idea, that of returning as quickly as possible to pure, 
healthy Mentone. I therefore embarked on a Genoa 
steamer as soon as I was equal to the voyage, and as soon 
as the barometer showed me that it was prudent so to do — 
through its friendly aid escaping a violent storm — and 
reached Mentone safely. There I remained during the 
rest of the winter. 

To conclude, however, about Naples and its bay. They 
are most fascinating to mere healthy tourists, for they are 
hallowed by associations and beauties of the most varied 
character; but to the invalid, Naples should be absolutely 
forbidden. Even hardy, healthy tourists may hesitate 
about a prolonged residence. They should, also, rather 
choose the more elevated regions of the city than the 
fashionable Chiaja. The defective sanitary arrangements 
are not the only drawbacks. When the wind is in the 
north-east, the Apennines in that direction are so low that 
it passes over them, they become covered with snow, and 
the cold is intense. When it veers to the south-east — the 
scirocco — on the contrary, the heat becomes intense, and 
the air, being loaded with moisture from the sea, is very 
oppressive. These extremes, following each other very 
rapidly, are most trying and unhealthy. The north-west, 
or mistral, also frequently blows into the bay with great 
violence, and is a trying, dangerous wind to invalids 
throughout the Mediterranean. Castellamare and Sorrento 



NAPLES AND ITS DANGERS. 223 

being turned to the north-west, receive this bitter wind in 
full. They have been much recommended of late years as 
safe winter residences, but the recommendation is an error, 
founded on occasional and exceptional fine weather. These 
localities are the summer residences of the Neapolitans, 
because they are turned to the north. 

It was not, however, without regret that I abandoned 
Naples. Notwithstanding illness and suffering, I was 
beginning to feel the influence of its usual fascination. 
During illness, also, I had reperused Andersen's sun-im- 
pressed history of " the Improvisatore," and Lamartine's 
poetical tale of " Graziella, the Maid of Ischial" The 
wish became strong again to visit Pompeii, again to 
explore the Orange clad hills of Castellamare and Sorrento, 
to sail over the lovely blue bay to Capri, to the azure 
grotto, and to Ischia. Indeed, it required a strong mental 
effort to drag me from the Circean allurements of Naples 
back to quiet Mentone, where no great deeds have been 
done, where we must be satisfied with the charms of 
nature, and where the monuments are merely those of the 
earth's early career, in pre-historical ages. 

At that time also the great and glorious political events 
that characterized the foundation of United Italy were 
being accomplished, and Naples was a centre of intense 
interest. The king, Victor Emmanuel, made his entrance 
into Naples as I was becoming convalescent, and daily 
passed under my windows (Nov. 1861) ; the entire popula- 
tion were wild with joy at their deliverance from the 
Bourbons, and at the regeneration of their native country. 
I saw, likewise, the Italian hero, Garibaldi, and that under 
circumstances so creditable to him, that I cannot refrain 
from mentioning them. 

After conquering Sicily with his one thousand followers, 
and after his triumphant progress through the South of 
Italy from Reggio to Naples, he had come over to that city 
to see his friend, the king, and insisted on remaining 
incognito. He felt that the positive adoration the Neapo- 
litans entertained for their deliverer would have led to 
demonstrations of such an enthusiastic character had he 
shown himself, that the king would have become quite 



224 WESTERN ITALY. 

a secondary personage. He therefore went to an hotel, 
like a private individual, and refused during his twenty- 
four hours' stay to receive any deputations, or indeed to 
allow his presence in Naples to be made known. Naples, 
however, heard of his advent, and the entire city was wild 
to see him and show him honour. I happened to visit that 
very afternoon the English reading-room, which was kept by 
two English ladies. I found them in the ante-room, standing 
and conversing with two gentlemen, one of whom was Gari- 
baldi — a mild, amiable-looking man, of middle height, with 
nothing of the fire-eater about him. In a few minutes he 
took his leave, and the ladies then told me that they had 
known him intimately for many years, and that that 
morning he had sent word that he would come and lunch 
with them in private. True to his word, he came at the 
time appointed, and remained two hours in their little 
homely parlour, eating fruit, conversing, and singing songs. 
This little trait shows the amiable simplicity and warm- 
hearted faithfulness of the hero. When all Naples was 
anxious to fall at his feet, and the king of his making was 
waiting anxiously to load him with honours, he preferred 
devoting his afternoon to the society of two humble friends 
of former days. 

If the fascination exercised by the bay of Naples is so 
great that the invalid tourist cannot possibly tear himself 
away, I should recommend him to make the island of 
Capri his head-quarters. The island is of limestone — a 
healthier geological formation than the soft tufa rock of 
Naples. The population is small, the scenery interesting, 
and there are several hotels where tolerably comfortable 
quarters may be obtained. Then there are no marshes, 
and the air is constantly purified by the sea-breeze. The 
Naples physicians are in the habit of sending conva- 
lescents there, and with the best results. In fine weather 
there is daily communication with the mainland by boat 
and steamer ; but in winter, in bad weather, the commu- 
nication is sometimes interrupted for weeks. The isolation 
is then nearly as great as that of Garibaldi at his island 
home of Caprera. 

The island of Capri is a picturesque mass of rocks, nine 



CAPRI — TIBERIUS. 225 

miles in circumference, and two and a half in width, 
situated at the outside of the bay of Naples, twenty miles 
from that city, two miles from the eastern cape of the 
bay, ten miles from the western cape, or Cape Miseno, and 
forms a species of amphitheatre facing Naples on the north. 
It is a very lovely little island, jagged and irregular in 
outline, a perfect chaos of rocks, and a charming residence 
for a month or two in early autumn or in spring, but not 
for midwinter. The northern exposure of the island and 
its distance from the protecting Apennines, leave it without 
defence against the northern winds. Friends and patients 
who have wintered there all agree that they had a great 
deal of rough weather to encounter, much more than on 
the Riviera, owing to the complete absence of protection 
from the northern quarters. Its southern shore is a precipi- 
tous rock many hundred feet high. 

Capri is full of recollections of Tiberius the Roman 
emperor, who passed the last ten years of his life there, 
indulging in every species of debauchery and crime. Up 
to his elevation to the empire, at the mature age of fifty- 
five, Tiberius had been known only as a great warrior and 
statesman, as a wise, virtuous citizen, as a good husband 
and father. Then, singularly, at an age when even vicious 
men often abdicate their vices, Tiberius, under the in- 
fluence of a kind of moral insanity, threw himself headlong 
into every species of cruelty and sensual indulgence, 
and that in such a shameless manner as to raise the 
indignation of even this depraved age (a.d. 14). Capri, 
where he retired, apparently the better to give untram- 
melled scope to his cruelty and passions, retains to this 
day the impress of his presence. The ruins of his palace, 
of his prisons, and of his baths are still shown. Above all, 
the memory of his nearly unparalleled vices remains as a 
kind of pall over the beautiful island. It still lives vividly, 
after nearly two thousand years, in the memory of the 
peasant inhabitants, 

Dr. Bishop — then the leading Naples physician, now 
practising in Paris — told me the history of a countryman, 
which is not only interesting, but points out a danger — a 
hidden rock on the path of the convalescent phthisical 



226 WESTERN ITALY. 

patient, and therefore deserves to be rescued from ob- 
livion. This gentleman came to Naples as a confirmed 
phthisical invalid. Although in an advanced stage of 
disease he rallied, and apparently regained his health. 
Unfortunately he became desperately attached to a very 
handsome young Italian girl, below him in social rank. 
Unlike the hero of Lamartine's beautiful tale of Gra- 
ziella, he married the object of his affections, and retired 
with her to live at Capri. This unwise step, however, 
involved him in many painful and trying ordeals. The 
storm of human passions had also been roused in an 
unsound constitution. It was the leaky ship going to sea, 
and exposed to the tempest and to the hurricane. Disease 
returned, and made a rapid progress, and as this time 
nothing could arrest it, his existence soon terminated. 

Leaky vessels should remain in port, where, like Nelson's 
old ship, the Victory, they may long ride with dignity on 
the smooth waters that surround them. The battle of 
life — its storms and tempests — must be left to the young 
and to the strong. The convalescent phthisical patient 
should ever recollect that he bears within him the seeds 
of death, that his disease may return any clay, that he 
lives on sufferance, and should act accordingly. The 
actual truth should be known, courageously recognised, 
and thoroughly accepted. 

As I have previously stated, the impression made upon 
my mind by the sanitary survey of the principal health 
towns of Italy was unsatisfactory in the extreme. The 
authors whose works I have read on winter climates have, 
it appears to me, made an extraordinary, but all-important 
omission. They have studied winds, sunshine, cloud, 
temperature, protection, and all the various elements 
which constitute climate, forgetting hygiene. 

And yet, are not the laws of hygiene of more importance 
to the invalid than all the rest put together ? Of what 
avail is it to place a patient suffering from a constitutional 
disease, such as phthisis, in the most favourable climate 
condition, if every law of hygiene is violated — if he is 
made to live in the very midst of badly-drained, badly- 
ventilated towns, such as Florence, Home, Naples, Valencia, 



SOUTHERN TOWNS UNHYGIENIC. 227 

or Malaga ? In these unhealthy centres of southern popu- 
lation, where the mortality is habitually very high, amongst 
the healthy natives, much higher, as we have seen, than 
in our most unwholesome manufacturing localities, what 
right have we to expect the general health of our patients 
to rally ? In reality, it would be as reasonable to send 
consumptive patients in the summer months to live in the 
worst parts of Whitechapel, Liverpool, or Glasgow, as it 
is to send them in winter to live in the centre of these 
unhealthy southern towns. 

In former days, when the laws of hygiene were ignored 
by the medical profession as well as by the non- medical 
public, when fevers and plagues were merely studied and 
treated as inscrutable dispensations of Divine wrath, it 
was, perhaps, excusable for writers on climate to devote 
their undivided attention to meteorological questions. But 
now that the mist and darkness have been dispelled, that 
typhoid fever, dysentery, and other town diseases have been 
traced to their causes — filth, defective ventilation and drain- 
age, — we know that attention to hygiene is even more 
necessary for the recovery of health than for its retention. 
In choosing a winter residence, therefore, hygienic con- 
ditions should be first considered, even before warmth and 
sunshine. 

If we are to be guided by such considerations, however, 
I must candidly confess that I have not yet seen a large 
town in the south of Europe (the health quarters of Nice 
and Pau excepted), the hygienic state of which is such as 
to render it a safe winter residence for an invalid. In most 
of these towns, moreover,— towns such as those I have just 
named, — the positions selected for and devoted to invalids 
are central, and owe their protection in a great measure to 
buildings, which secure to them the town atmosphere 
undiluted. Thus are explained the frequent deaths from 
"fever" amongst our countrymen, ill or well, residing in 
them, which we every year see chronicled. On the spot 
you are told that they have died from the fever of " the 
country/' But this fever of the country, as far as I can 
gather from minute inquiry, is no other than our own old 
enemy, typhoid, under a continental garb. Its characteristic 

Q 2 



228 THE WESTERN RIVIERA. 

features may be modified by some malarious or catarrhal 
element^ but the type is the same. The cause, too, is 
identical in the Italian marble palace and in the St. Giles's 
hovel — foul air inside and outside the house — everywhere. 

Having failed to discover any more sheltered spot than 
the Mentone amphitheatre, in the eastern Riviera, and in 
Western Italy, I determined, on leaving Genoa, to minutely 
examine the western Riviera, along which there are many 
populous towns and villages. Each successive station — 
Savon a, Finale, Oneglia, San Remo, Yentimiglia — w r as ex- 
amined, and abandoned as inferior,- until 1 once more found 
myself in the well-remembered site of my previous winter's 
experience. The conviction which this journey produced, that 
the Mentone amphitheatre affords superior protection to any 
to be found between it and Pisa, on either Riviera, is at once 
explained by reference to the maps in this work. 

On no part of the coast do the mountains in the imme- 
diate vicinity rise in a chain to the same height — namely, 
from 3500 to 4000 feet. Nowhere do they recede in the 
same manner from the shore in the form of an unbroken 
amphitheatre, so as to completely shelter from the north, 
east, and west a hilly district such as the one which consti- 
tutes the centre of the Mentone region. Nowhere also is 
there such a background of still higher mountains lying due 
north, so as to protect in its turn the semicircular shore 
chain. This background of mountain-land extends fifty miles 
to the north into Savoy, and is limited only in that direc- 
tion by the Tenda, a chain which rises from 7000 to 9000 
feet. These higher mountains extend towards the shore in a 
south-easterly direction, and reach it at Finale, more than 
half-way between Nice and Genoa. Between Genoa and 
Finale the mountains which skirt the shore are neither very 
deep nor very high ; between Finale and Nice the depth and 
height of the northern mountain-land constantly increase. 
Consequently, the amount of protection offered from the 
north increases in the same ratio, until at Mentone the 
greatest amount of protection and shelter and undoubtedly 
the warmest climate of the entire Riviera are reached. 

The various towns which skirt the coast are generally 
placed at the mouths of the rivers which form their ports, 



SAN REMO. 229 

and the rivers of course empty themselves from valleys 
which break the mountain-line. These valleys being 
nearly always directed north and south, or thereabouts, 
most of the towns are placed in the coldest situations 
on the coast, at the entrance of breaks in the mountain- 
chain, down which the cold winds blow. A glance at the 
vegetation shows this : Orange-trees retreat, and Olives 
and Pines take their place. Here and there, as the road 
winds along the coast, sheltered nooks and romantic little 
bays are seen at one's feet, where the Orange and the 
Lemon, the Cactus and the Carouba-tree, seem to thrive 
luxuriantly, finding the same warmth and shelter as at 
Mentone. But in these exceptional corners there is gene- 
rally no population — scarcely a house ; the traveller can 
only admire and pass on. Again, in the Riviera towns 
the inhabitants are thoroughly Italian ; they still live on 
maccaroni, olive-oil, soup, and bread, rarely indulging in 
meat, and ignore entirelv the multitudinous wants and 
requirements of our "difficult- to -please"" countrymen. 
These towns will have to be raised to a much higher 
civilization level before they can be adopted as winter 
residences by invalids. I am persuaded, however, that in 
the course of time their day will come. 

An exception may even now be made in favour of San 
Remo, which participates in the special protection met 
with at Mentone. San Remo is a town of some importance, 
about fifteen miles east of Mentone. It has 11,000 
inhabitants, and many houses on the outskirts of the town 
that might be made agreeable to strangers. Moreover, it 
is in Italy thoroughly Italian, and the Italian language 
is spoken, although not with great purity. 

The example of Mentone, the fact that land in the 
Mentonian amphitheatre has decupled in value within the 
last ten years, has awakened the proprietors of San Remo 
to the great money value of the northern invalids. Several 
new and comfortable hotels have been built, and a number 
of villas have also been erected for strangers. Although 
less picturesque than Mentone, and fifteen miles further 
from Nice, a great drawback, San Remo deserves the 
patronage of winter emigrants. The climate is the same 



230 THE WESTERN RIVIERA. 

as that of the western bay at Mentone, and no doubt all 
who do well at the one would do well at the other. I had 
hoped that it would be less expensive, but I do not find 
that there is much difference. Nor do I think there will be 
at any of the Riviera towns, once they have been galvanized 
up to the standard required as a minimum by strangers. 
The expense of building, of furnishing, and of obtaining 
provisions from a distance, must be pretty nearly the same 
everywhere. 

Competition, however, is wholesome, and those who meet 
with no accommodation to. their taste at Nice and Mentone, 
who wish entirely to avoid the pleasures, blandishments 
and snares of Monaco, or who are anxious to be actually 
on Italian soil, may safely pass on, and try San Uemo. 
As the English colony increases the accommodation will 
surely improve, as it has improved at Mentone, and as it 
improves in all continental towns which are patronized by 
our comfort-loving conntrymen. 

Bordighera, four miles from San Remo, and eleven 
from Mentone, is a source of interest to all travellers, as 
the scene of the adventures of Dr. Antonio. The pro- 
montory, on the summit of which it stands, juts out into 
the sea, so as to form a very conspicuous and picturesque 
object all along the western coast, as far as Monaco and 
even Antibes. It appears less picturesque, however, on a 
near approach, and turns out to be merely one of the small 
eramped-up Italian towns, of which there are a score along 
the coast, all very much alike. The suburbs present nothing 
very interesting, with the exception of the far-famed Palm 
groves. In these groves, which surround the town on all 
sides, thousands of Palms are growing with truly Oriental 
vigour and luxuriance, and give a very Eastern character 
to the landscape. They are of all sizes, from a few feet to 
above a hundred, and of all ages, from a few years to a 
thousand or more. In the garden of the French Consul, 
more especially, are to be found noble and majestic speci- 
mens of this beautiful tree ; many of them he told me were 
more than a thousand years old. The spot on which they are 
situated was the garden of a monastery of Dominicans, in 
very bygone days, more than a thousand years ago. It 




THE PAL^I GROYE AT BORDIGHERA. 



BORDIGHERA — THE PALM GROOVES. 231 

was these monks who introduced and planted the Palm-tree 
in the district. Many of those existing were actually 
planted in this, the olden time, by the monks, of whom 
not a trace, not a vestige remains, with the exception of these 
their favourite trees. The accompanying wood engraving 
will enable the reader to form some little idea of the 
Oriental character of the scene, which is well worth a 
passing visit. The Bordighera Palms, however, are not 
so beautiful as those of Elche in Spain, or of the African 
desert, owing perhaps to their leaves being generally 
tied up. Bordighera supplies Rome with Palms for Palm 
Sunday, and as the fashion is for them to be white, 
the leaves are thus artificially blanched. It is this fact, 
the monopoly of the supply to • Rome, that explains the 
existence of the Palm groves ; they can be cultivated 
profitably at Bordighera and nowhere else. They would 
grow on any part of the more sheltered regions of the 
Riviera, from Nice to Finale, but then their cultivation 
would be altogether profitless, as they do not ripen, their 
fruit on the north shore of the Mediterranean. 

It is possible that the siliceous sand that comes down the 
valley of the Roya from the Tenda mountain, and forms 
the alluvial sandy flat between Ventimiglia and Bordighera 
contributes to the health and well-being of the Palms. 
Although they certainly will grow in calcareous soils, I 
have always found sand, both in Europe and in Africa, in 
the soil of the regions where they thrive and are the most 
luxuriant. 

The Bordighera Palm groves being only eleven miles 
distant are a favourite picnic resort of the Mentonians, and 
most of us have pleasant recollections connected with their 
stately shade. There are two hotels at Bordighera ; and 
several villas as also an English church have been built. 
The latter is the gift of a resident, Mrs. Fanshawe. 

Four miles further we come to Ventimiglia, at the mouth 
of the Roya valley. It is a town of seven thousand inha- 
bitants, formerly fortified, and is interesting as a specimen 
of Riviera towns unmodified by strangers. Situated at the 
mouth of a wide valley opening north, Ventimiglia is not, 
and probably never will be, a health station. It is, how- 



232 THE WESTERN RIVIEHA. 

ever, one of the favourite drives from Mentone, and between 
the two stations there are many lovely sheltered nooks and 
corners, on the coast line and on the hills above. They 
will eventually be colonized by those who, making a 
southern settlement, want space, a few acres of land, with- 
out paying the fabulous price now asked in the Mentone 
amphitheatre. 

Thus we gradually get back to little Mentone in its 
smiling amphitheatre of hills, the view of which is nearly 
as beautiful when we descend to it from the east as when 
we descend to it from the west. 

Mentone was built, like all other Italian towns, for the 
purpose of defence, and is no exception, therefore, to the 
Riviera rule. Most of its older streets are sunless lanes, a 
few feet wide, but the visitors have nothing to do with 
them, and never need enter them unless it be to gratify 
curiosity. It is, however, cleaner than the great Italian 
towns, owing to the great value of the refuse. The people 
— an industrious race — have to cultivate the rocky terraces, 
and have no pasturage, no cattle but donkeys and mules. 
They husband their manure, therefore, with jealous care, 
and let none escape into the sea or elsewhere. This remark 
applies also to all the villages and towns on the Riviera. 

Thus, neither the land nor the sea are poisoned as in the 
larger towns of the Mediterranean coast, unquestionably 
one of the great health advantages of small localities. It 
is worth all the ruins and art treasures of Italy to the 
real invalid, with whom the main point is to save or 
prolong life, not temporary artistic or social pleasure and 
amusement. 

The Genoese Riviera ceases, geographically, at Nice, the 
Brighton of the Mediterranean. But Antibes, Golf Juan, 
and Cannes may be said to belong to it meteorologically 
and botanically. They are sheltered from the north-west 
wind or mistral by the Esterel, from the north by the 
mountains behind Grasse, from the north-east by the 
higher ridges of the maritime Alps. The vegetation is 
the same as in the Riviera, but with a difference as to 
degree. The protection being incomplete, the winds are 
stronger, and in cold exceptional weather the thermometer 



CANNES — HYERES. 233 

falls lower. Cannes is now an established favourite, one of 

the most flourishing English winter colonies on the Medi- 
co o 

terranean. 

Crossing the Esterel we come to Hyeres, near Toulon, 
long the favourite winter station for invalids on this coast. 
Hyeres is half a degree, thirty miles, more south than 
Cannes or Mentone. The sun is as powerful, the summer 
heat as great, but then the mountain shelter is less even 
than at Cannes, so the mistral or north-west wind often 
blows with violence in autumn and spring. Hence the 
tide of invalidism and fashion now sets eastward. It is 
still, however, much patronized by the French, and by 
some of our older physicians, true to the partialities of their 
younger days. In some cases Hyeres has an advantage 
over all the coast towns we have named on the Riviera. 
It is three miles from the sea, so that persons to whom the 
proximity to the sea is disagreeable or pernicious may 
here take refuge, and still enjoy in winter the advantages 
of the sunshine and atmospheric dryness of the north 
shores of the Mediterranean. 

It is worthy of remark that as facilities for travelling 
have increased, the winter migration of invalidism has 
descended more to the south and to the east. When 
communication with and on the continent was difficult, 
our own sanitaria and Madeira, so accessible by sea, 
answered the purpose. As travelling facilities increased, 
Montpelier, Pan, Hyeres, Nice, Cannes, successively became 
favourites. Owing to the impulse given by this work 
and my teaching, the Genoese Riviera has been invaded, 
and colonized by the tribe of invalids. But the move- 
ment will not stop there ; when the Indian mail crosses 
from Salonica in Thessaly to Alexandria in forty-eight 
hours, and there are steamboats and comfortable hotels 
on the Upper Nile, a proportion of the well-to-do invalids 
will no doubt every year get up nearly as far as the upper 
waters of that no longer mysterious river. 

EASTERN ITALY. 

As I have already stated, the great political, pleasure, 
and health cities of Italy, Genoa, Pisa, Florence, Rome, 



234 EASTERN ITALY. 

Naples, Salerno, are all on the west side of the Apennines, 
and thus sheltered from the north-east winds. The 
Genoese Riviera belongs to this the western or protected 
half of Italy. Bologna belongs to the rich plains of 
Piedmont and is on the high road from thence to Florence. 
South of Bologna there are no towns of any importance 
in a political, artistic, or health sense, for Ancona, Bari, 
Foggia, Brindisi, Taranto, cannot be considered such. 

I had long wished to explore the eastern division of 
Italy, but had always gone with the crowd south and 
west, until the spring of 1872. Starting for an eastern 
tour, and having to embark at Brindisi, I resolved to 
make a leisurely progress through the Adriatic provinces 
of Italy on my way south. 

I was anxious to learn by ocular demonstration how 
these provinces fared in spring without the protection which 
the Apennines afford to the western coast. I may safely 
assert that all, or nearly all, that has been written about 
the climate and vegetation of Italy applies only to its 
western or protected shores. The eastern or unprotected 
Adriatic provinces, are seldom visited by tourists, and 
seldom even alluded to by the authors of travels in Italy. 
So it has been for ages. Italy has lived in history, in 
science, and in art, on her western shores. 

I left Mentone April the 16th. The vegetation on the 
sheltered and sun-warmed shores of the Genoese Eiviera, 
at Cannes, at Nice, at Mentone, at San Remo, was that of 
the south of England at the end of the first or second 
week in June. Spring flowers were over; the Banksian 
and Bengal Roses had been some time in full bloom, as 
also the Lemon trees. Hybrid Roses and the Orange 
trees were rapidly coming into flower ; deciduous trees, 
Planes, Oaks, Figs, were rapidly coming into leaf; Willows 
had long been in full leaf, Vines were about to flower. It 
was quite summer. 

At Genoa vegetation was nearly as far advanced as 
with us, but on passing out of the Apennines into the 
flat plains of Piedmont, which are exposed to the 
northern blasts rushing down from the Alps, too distant 
to protect them, a change came over the spirit of the 



BOLOGNA. 235 

dream — we went back six weeks. There was not an 
Orange, a Lemon, a Palm, or even a Fig tree to be seen. 
The Poplars, Willows, and Vines were just beginning to 
show their first leaves, the Mulberry trees were naked, 
the Cherry and Hawthorn in flower; cereals were two 
inches from the ground, and rather yellow, as if they 
had recently been exposed to severe cold. Moreover, 
there was a cold north-east wind blowing, such as I had 
not once felt during the winter at Mentone. It was 
evident that in these Piedmontese plains the actual frosts 
of winter must be severe, and that, owing to the absence 
of protection, winter is prolonged far into spring. 

This cold north-east wind and the dust it raised 
pursued us to Bologna, where I was glad to take refuge. 
Here I heard that the previous winter there had been 
several feet of snow in the streets, which remained for 
weeks, and that the ice on a canal with a rapid stream, 
which runs through the town, was more than a foot thick. 
Nor is this surprising when we look at the map, and see 
that Bologna is in the plains of Lombardy, at the foot of 
the eastern slope of the Apennines, with nothing whatever 
to protect it from the north-east blasts that blow from the 
snow-cohered mountains of Styria. So Bologna is in- 
tensely hot in summer, from a latitude similar to that of 
Mentone with its Orange and Lemon trees, and is intensely 
cold in winter from exposure. Although 7° further south 
than England, it appeared to me to have about the same 
vegetation ; we must, however, except the Vine and Maize, 
which the extreme heat of the southern summer ripens. 
The Vine and the Maize do not get with us the four 
months' sun-heat they require to ripen their fruit; our Sep- 
tember is too cold. 

Below Bologna (April 19), as going south we receded 
from the high mountains which limit Italy to the north, 
the cold north-east wind seemed to be losing its power, and 
vegetation was more advanced. The Poplars were in leaf, 
the Mulberry and Acacia trees showed small leaves, as did 
the Elms; the Vine shoots were two inches long, cereals 
three inches above the ground, and healthier looking; elms 
seemed principally cultivated to support the Vines. They 



236 EASTERN ITALY. 

are allowed to grow some six or eight feet, and then made 
to divide into two, three, four, or five branches or forks, on 
which as many shoots of a Vine are trained. The Vine 
planted at the foot is not trained round the tree — probably 
that it may not, later, strangle it — but carried straight up 
one side to the point where the branches divide, when one 
shoot is tied to each branch of the tree. Often shoots 
are carried in festoons from one tree to another, and as the 
trees are planted in rows, about forty feet apart, the effect 
in summer, when they are covered with fruit and leaves, 
must be very picturesque. Might we not make use of 
Vines trained on trees merely for their foliage ? Their 
power of all but indefinite elongation, would thus have fair 
play, and an Oak or Elm covered in summer with Vine 
leaves up to the summit would look very well. There 
were neither Fig, Olive, Orange nor Lemon trees. We 
passed through a flat, well-irrigated, carefully cultivated 
but most un picturesque country, bounded on the western 
horizon by low hills, the dying slopes of the Apennines. 

Bologna is about forty miles from the Adriatic, and the 
railroad strikes the sea some sixty miles to the south. It 
then skirts the shore until Ancona is reached. Ancona, 
although a town of considerable commercial importance, 
being the emporium of Italian trade in the Adriatic, is out 
of the track of tourists, and even of travellers for the east. 
The latter all but invariably pursue their journey by 
night train to Brmdisi. It remains therefore in the dead- 
alive state of most purely Italian towns. The streets are 
narrow, the shops poor, the hotel accommodation very bad, 
fifth-rate, although there are fine docks and warehouses ; 
so I was glad to be off early the next day. 

The rail from Ancona to Brindisi skirts the shore all the 
way, except when crossing the base of a promontory after 
reaching the town of Vasto. Proximity to the sea does 
not, however, seem to promote a milder climate, as on the 
western coast. Probably the Adriatic is colder than the 
Mediterranean, from the coldness of the northern rivers 
that run into it. Moreover from its narrowness the cold 
north- east winds have not time to get warmed by contact 
in crossing, so the shores are bleak and desolate, much more 



ANCONA TO BRINDISI. 237 

so than the country immediately below Bologna, No 
doubt away from the sea, in sheltered valleys, at the foot 
of the Apennines, are nooks in which vegetation is more 
southerly; but all along the shore, in the vast plains we 
traversed, bounded on the far-off western horizon by low 
hills, all was still bleak and winterly until we reached 
Vasto, on a parallel line with Rome. Previously we had 
seen a few small Fig trees, struggling for existence in back 
yards, or in gardens surrounded by high walls, as we see 
them in our own country, say at Ryde, Isle of Wight ; 
but they never seemed able to boldly take to the open 
country. These immense plains were principally covered 
with cereals, or lying fallow, not a head of cattle was to 
be seen, and no farmhouses. The native population evi- 
dently stagnated in sparse villages and towns, with little 
evidence of civilization around them except handsome 
churches. It is clear that in Southern Europe, in the 
Middle Ages, all the savings, all the superfluous wealth of 
the country, must have been devoted to building and embel- 
lishing churches. On no other ground can we explain 
their number and magnificence in countries which must 
have been then even more wretchedly poor than they 
appear to be to-day. That may be one reason why capital 
did not accumulate in those days, and take other directions, 
as it does now. I asked travelling companions how these 
immense corn plains were manured, and the answer was 
that they were not manured at all, but allowed to remain 
fallow, and to recover themselves by " natural processes/' 

These companions were principally local gentlemen, few 
and far between, who got into the carriage to travel from 
one town to another. I contrived, by diligent cross-ques- 
tioning, to get a deal of information from them on the 
subject of their native districts. It became clear to me 
that the passage of the railway through these little- 
frequented regions, and the amalgamation of all Italy into 
one kingdom, " Italia Unita," has given a great impulse to 
civilization. It has increased the value of land and of its 
products j it has raised the wages of labour, and is 
powerfully stimulating the intellect and resources of all 
classes in this part of Italy. My Italian fellow-travellers 



238 EASTERN ITALY. 

were full of schemes for the advancement and regeneration 
of their native provinces. A few years will, most assuredly, 
inoculate the entire population with ideas of progress, and 
work wonders in the welfare of these eastern regions 
hitherto so apathetic, hitherto left behind in the progress 
of Italian civilization. 

Such was the opinion also of an English gentleman who, 
like myself, was going down to Brindisi, and was my 
principal companion during a long day's journey. He was 
an engineer, residing at Sydney, in Australia, had been 
away two months from home to do a little business in 
England, had accomplished it, and was on his way back. 
The little business was merely this. He was connected 
with a railway in Australia, for which capital and labour 
were required. So he had left Sydney three months 
before, had crossed the Pacific, landing at San Francisco, the 
American continent by rail, and then the Atlantic. In 
London he had raised the money he required, engaged 
500 navvies, shipped them off in two vessels, and was on 
his way home, where he expected to be within six weeks. 
He showed me photographs of his wife and children, living, 
say Adelaide Terrace, Sydney, and talked of this journey — 
in which, like Ariel, he had put a girdle round the earth — 
as calmly as if it had been a mere excursion from London 
to Dublin. I could not help thinking that a dozen of men 
like him in sleepy Ancona would soon revolutionize the 
place, and make a very different city of it. 

Below Vasto, on crossing the base of the promontory, we 
came upon some moderate-sized Olive trees. Here and there 
we passed through patches of uncultivated ground, sandy, 
siliceous, which was covered with the same vegetation as 
the maquis or brushwood in Corsica — Cistus just beginning 
to flower, Juniper, Lentiscus, Ferula, Asphodel, Ilex, Cork, 
Oak, but no Mediterranean Heath. 

At Bari, which is parallel with Naples, a branch line goes 
to Taranto. I had long wished to visit this city, it looks 
so very tempting on the map ; sixty miles (one degree) 
south of Naples, turned to the south-west, and sheltered 
from the north-east by a semicircular mountain range. I 
quite expected to find an unknown southern Eldorado, 



TARANTO — BRINDISI. 239 

but was disappointed. The mountain range only rises 
1000 feet — not enough to give complete protection from 
the north-east winds, even in this southern latitude, and 
the full exposure to the south-westerly winds is clearly a 
disadvantage. Still, some striking and interesting facts 
were developed in this slight ascent and short journey. 

On leaving Bari, at the base of the low range, W e crossed 
a grove of very respectable Olive trees, but at 300 feet they 
left us, to be replaced by a forest of stunted deciduous oaks. 
In their turn they disappeared at about 700 feet, and from 
this to the summit, which I found 1000 feet. The north- 
east wind had. it clearly all its own way on this the north 
side of the range. At this low altitude there was scarcely 
a tree to be seen, but immense tracts of fresh green scanty 
pasturage, just as on a Welsh mountain. On descending 
the southern side there were no Oaks, the Olives beginning 
to appear at 700 feet. At first poor and small, they 
gradually became larger, and at the southern base we 
saw fine old trees, although not so large as those of the 
Genoese Riviera. Taranto is an old wall-enclosed Italian 
city, cramped and confined, as all such towns are in Italy, 
situated at the base of a peninsula. In a market garden, 
surrounded by high walls, I found large Fig trees, Pome- 
granates, Apricots, no Oranges nor Lemons. There were 
plenty in the market, but, what with the north-east wind 
at the back, and the blast of south-westerly gales in front, 
they could not grow on the coast, I was told, although they 
grew freely in the interior. Taranto itself is a wretched 
but picturesque Italian town of 6000 inhabitants, with no 
regular inn or hotel — merely a cafe with some sleeping- 
rooms above it. 

I returned to Bari, and pursued my journey to Brindisi. 
Here I found the same conditions that had marked the 
entire journey from Bologna downwards — a southern lati- 
tude and powerful sun in vain contending with exposure to 
north-east winds. Brindisi is on a promontory turned to 
the north, and gets its sun laterally, as it were. Wherever 
the north-east wind reaches, the land is literally naked, 
reduced to vines and cereals ; where there is exposure to 
the sun, and protection from the north by walls or other- 



240 EASTERN ITALY. 

wise, it grows all the southern products, just like Naples 
or Salerno. Thus, there are small gardens in the town 
in which are fine Orange and Lemon trees, covered with 
beautiful fruit of excellent quality ; but they are in 
courts, or surrounded by walls twenty feet high. You do 
not even see the tops of the trees in passing along the 
streets at the base of the garden walls. On the other side 
of the harbour, in a valley or fold of land with a south- 
western exposure, and protected from the north by a belt 
of Fir trees, I saw (April 25) in flower many of the plants 
I had left in flower in my Biviera garden eight days 
before. Sweet Peas, Roses — Banksian, Bengal, multiflora, 
Tea, hybrid ; among others, Chromatella, Gloire de Dijon, 
Lamarque, Malmaison, Empereur de Maroc ; Jasminum 
revolutum, Linum rubrum, Verbena, Zinnia, Petunia, 
Lantana, Cineraria, Pelargonium, double Geranium, Straw- 
berries nearly ripe. Most of these plants, however, the 
Hoses excepted, were not luxuriant and fresh, as with me at 
Mentone. They seemed stinted, generally unhappy, as if 
they had suffered from cold in the winter. In this garden 
were large Aloes and Opuntias, unknown all along the coast. 
In the very centre, and in the most sheltered site in the 
garden, there was a Lemon tree, some ten feet high, covered 
with fruit. From the way in which Oranges and Lemons 
thrive in Italy and in Spain, in the closest possible quarters 
— in courtyards in the centre of towns, surrounded with 
high walls, in hollows and valleys without down draughts — 
I think it clear they would thrive and fruit with us abun- 
dantly under glass, and might, as Mr. Bivers says, be 
cultivated with profit, as Grapes and Peaches are ; perhaps, 
even, we might improve on quality. An old quarry, with 
a southern exposure, would be the very place for an Orange 
orchard. "What they appear not to be able to bear is frost 
or wind ; otherwise they are easily pleased. Some of the 
finest Orange trees I have ever seen were in the close court- 
yard of the Seville Cathedral, in Spain. 

I thus found, once more, that complete protection from 
north winds, such as is obtained on the Genoese Biviera, 
makes up for many degrees of latitude ; whereas exposure 
to cold mountain winds, such as impinge on the entire 



TARANTO— EASTERN TRAVELLERS. 241 

eastern coast of Italy, takes away the good effect of many 
degrees of latitude. The vegetation of the Genoese Riviera 
is that of the sheltered regions of Sicily, 6° further south ; 
whereas the vegetation of Bologna and Ancona is that of 
the central regions of France, 6° more north. The fact 
illustrated is the advantage of protection from the north in 
all regions, and of full exposure to the south. Every step 
of my Mediterranean explorations and journeyings has 
confirmed the truth of this statement. 

The excursion to Taranto made me too late for the 
steamer on which I intended to embark for the East, so I 
had to wait several days for the next. This interval I 
spent very comfortably at the " Grand Hotel," exploring 
the present town, ruminating on the past, and speculating 
on the future. The greater part of the time I was quite 
alone — the only guest in this hotel, built by the Peninsular 
Company for their passengers to and from Alexandria. It 
is a most comfortable, luxurious caravansail, and presents 
the curious feature of filling and emptying by a kind of 
tide on the advent of the Alexandria steamers. On the 
arrival or departure of one of these magnificent vessels the 
hotel awakes as from a deep slumber. All is bustle 
and orderly agitation, most of the 120 rooms are occupied, 
and movement prevails in the establishment for twenty- four 
or forty-eight hours, by which time all have departed, and 
silence and repose are once more the order of the day. 

One steamer arrived from Alexandria, with the Indian 
mail and passengers, and one departed, during my sojourn. 
Both were most dramatic events to the looker on, and each 
explained and completed the other. 

The departure represented youth — the commencement of 
life, and of an Oriental career ; the arrival was the reverse 
of the picture. The arrival from the East gave, as it were, 
a tableau of the return of the same joyous, boisterous, 
youthful passengers, ten, twenty, thirty years hence. 
They returned as sober, middle-aged men, with pale 
wives, with thin sickly-looking children, with Oriental- 
visaged servants, ayahs, and bearers ; or as aged men at 
the end of their eastern career, sharp-eyed and life-worn, 
men who had clearly been accustomed to command and to 

it 



242 EAST REN ITALY. 

be obeyed, and who were returning to end their days in 
their native country. 

The first — the departing passengers — were mostly young, 
strong, healthy, well-dressed, in boisterous spirits. Gentle- 
men and ladies, seemed like a troop of young people at a 
Regent's Park flower-show on a fine summer day ; even 
their luggage was quite new and handsome. The arriving 
passengers— men, women, and children — had evidently 
passed through the trying ordeals of life. They had no 
longer roses on their cheeks, and many looked ill and 
anxious. Their garments were travel-worn and stained, 
their luggage was old and battered. They had evidently 
been battling with life, struggling with work, climate, and 
cares for j^ears, and many had clearly suffered in the struggle. 

Brindisi, in the days of the Roman emperors, was a great 
and important city, the termination of the Appian way 
from Rome. It was the military and commercial port of 
embarkation for the East, for Greece, Egypt, Palestine, and 
Asia Minor. On the subsidence of the Roman empire, it 
fell into decay, became and remained an insignificant 
provincial town, without commerce or even local importance, 
and that until quite recently. 

During the Franco-German war the Indian mail was 
diverted from Marseilles to Brindisi, a change rendered 
feasible by the completion of the Italian railway down the 
Adriatic coast. With the stream of passengers from Europe 
to the East, a new life has been infused into the dormant 
city. The government has dredged the magnificent old 
port, which had been allowed to fill up, and has built a 
great jetty or pier, connecting an island outside with the 
main land, thus forming an extensive outer port. Docks 
and warehouses are also being built, partly by private com- 
panies, and land has quadrupled in value. On every side 
are evidences of improvement, of activity. 

This revival of energy, however, is, I was told, taking 
place from without, not from within. It is Italians from 
the north, from Genoa and Milan, and foreigners, who are 
the leading promoters of all this commercial and social 
progress. A little incident in the social state of Brindisi 
gives the key to the somnolence of its native inhabi- 
tants. I wanted some books to read, and in this town of 



SCARCITY OF BOOKS — NATIONAL REVIVAL. 243 

] 5,000 inhabitants there were none to be either borrowed 
or bought; there was neither circulating* library nor 
bookseller. After many inquiries, I was directed to a kind 
of bazaar; the proprietor opened a cupboard, and showed 
me some fifty volumes of schoolbooks and missals, or 
church-services, with a few religious works'. It was all he 
had, nor was there a newspaper on sale in the town. It is 
difficult for us to conceive such a state of intellectual 
somnolence in the nineteenth century. 

Not finding any books in the town, I inquired if there 
was any public library, and was told that there was one at 
the episcopal palace, so I started to find it. At the palace 
I inquired for the librarian, and after being handed about 
from one servant to another was shown into the presence of 
a dignified old gentleman, who proved to be the archbishop 
himself ! I made an apology and explained my mission, 
on which he made me sit down, and conversed a long 
while with me, asking all kinds of questions about my 
journey and its object, England and our system of popular 
education. He then deputed one of his chaplains to show 
me the library. With this reverend gentleman, a most 
courteous and learned man, I spent a long morning ex- 
amining early and curious editions of the classics and of 
theological works, of which the library is mainly composed. 
The archbishop and his chaplains were men of refinement 
and cultivation. When the heads of the educational de- 
partment in a country are thus enlightened, and the rest of 
the community are left in thorough intellectual darkness, 
the difference between the two must be intentional, the 
result of a system. 

I have recently (May, 1874) traversed Italy from Naples 
to Turin, and have found everywhere the most undeniable 
evidence of a national revival. Since the entire country 
has been united under a single national government, a 
complete intellectual regeneration has apparently com- 
menced, and is rapidly progressing. Italy is now totally 
different from the country that I knew twenty-five years 
ago. Public and private improvements are going on every- 
where. In Catania, Messina, Naples, Rome, Florence, and 
in nearly every other town there is evidence of progress on 
every side. New sea-walls and jetties, docks and ware- 

k2 



244 EASTERN ITALY. 

houses in maritime towns, draining and rebuilding in the 
continental towns, are in progress everywhere. The rail- 
ways, the steamers, and the conscription, by mixing 
provinces and races, are amalgamating the whole nation. 
Picturesque costumes are disappearing, and at Rome and 
Naples they are now scarcely seen. But then with them 
are also disappearing the beggars, the lazzarone, sent 
into almshouses ; in a word, the picturesqueness of dirt and 
of rags is departing from Italy. 

In the country life is becoming more secure, the peasants 
hitherto huddled in their towns and villages, for the sake 
of mutual succour and support against brigands and evil- 
doers, are beginning to issue forth. Before long there will 
be isolated farmhouses and small hamlets, as with us, as in 
Piedmont and Lombardy. I found the fertile country 
from Naples to Home, from Borne to Florence, cultivated 
like a garden — not a weed to be seen, and that as it were 
by invisible hands, by peasants who in these regions live 
still in villages and small towns, and have to lose hours 
daily in walking to and from their work. 

And thus is being fulfilled the prophecy in " Rogers's 
Italy/' placed at the head of this chapter — 

. . . . " Twice hast thou livecl already ; 
Twice shone among the nations of the world, 
As the sun shines among the lesser lights 
Of heaven ; and shalt again." .... 

Notwithstanding the dearth of books at Brindisi, I 
managed to get over my five days' detention very satis- 
factorily. What with fishing in the inner port, boating 
and bathing in the outer one, exploring the town and its 
antiquities, as also the gardens and plantations in the 
vicinity, what with watching and moralizing over the pas- 
sengers departing for and arriving from India, what with 
interviewing the archbishop and his chaplains, completing 
arrears of correspondence, and writing a couple of essays on 
medical and horticultural subjects, time did not hang very 
heavy on my hands. Still when the Corfu steamer arrived 
from Trieste, I was quite ready to depart. 



CHAPTER IX. 

SPAIN. 

CAB.THAGENA — MURCIA — ELCHE — ALICANTE — VALENCIA — CORDOVA — 
SEVILLE— MALAGA — GRANADA— MADRID— VALLADOLID — BURGOS. 

. . . . "And be there joined 
Patience and temperance with this high reserve, 
Honour that knows the path and will not swerve, 
Affections which, if pnt to proof, are kind, 
And piety towards God. Such men of old 
Were England's native growth, and throughout Spain, 
Thanks to high God, forests of such remain. 
Then, for that country, let our hopes be bold, 
For matched with these shall Policy prove vain, 
Her arts, her strength, her iron, and her gold." 

Wordsworth, Sonnet xxviii. 

CARTHAGENA. 

I had been visiting Algeria with some friends, and we had 
brought our Algerian explorations to a close at Oran. We 
left Oran on the 30th of April, 1869, at 5 p.m., and reached 
Carthagena the following morning, in fifteen hours. The 
passage was rough, owing to the strong west or north-west 
wind from the Atlantic, which was hurrying south to fill 
the vacuum caused by heat over the Desert of Sahara, 
sucked in by that great natural furnace. This wind was 
carrying with it dark rain-loaded clouds to water and ferti- 
lize Algeria. The captain told us that the wind would 
lull, and the sea become calm, when we got within fifty 
miles of the coast of Spain, owing to the shelter of Cape de 
Gata. Whether we really did get under the shelter of this 
cape, or whether it was, as I suspect, that the African 
Desert pulled the wind down south, out of our way, I 
cannot say, but the captain's words proved true. W"e had 
some hours of calm and comfort before we reached the coast, 



ESP ANA (SPAIN) 




246 SPAIN. 

and were able to scan its rocky shores from afar. There was 
all but a calm when we entered the magnificent port of 
Carthagena, the Plymouth of Spain. 

On looking round at the high limestone rocks and 
mountains which form the coast line, and surround the 
port, I rubbed my eyes with astonishment. Not a shrub, 
not a blade of grass, not a vestige of vegetable life of any 
kind or description was there to be seen on the cliffs, or 
on the shore inland. Scorched, browned by the sun, the 
rocky coast might have come that very day out of Pluto's 
laboratory. I was subsequently told by the French Consul 
that it seldom rained at Carthagena, and that they had 
then been eight months without any rain at all, that is, 
during one of the rainiest winters on record in Europe 
generally, as well as in the north of Africa. I took a walk 
on the ramparts, and in the vicinity of the town, but found 
no more vegetation than on a brick kiln, with one excep- 
tion, a small herbaceous plant, from six to twelve inches 
in height, with green fleshy leaves, which grew sparsely 
here and there, and of which no one knew the name. I 
saw nothing in this sunburnt, dirty, miserable town to 
deserve attention, excepting the port, the fortifications, and 
a grand old tower built by the Carthaginians more than 
two thousand years ago. The Spanish Government, 
Vandal like, is at present levelling to the ground this 
curious remnant of antiquity, to make way for some im- 
provements. Owing to the existence of a deep and safe 
port, one of the very best in the Mediterranean, Cartha- 
gena has always been an important military station, and 
was the principal military and commercial port in the 
flourishing days of Spanish colonization. The principal 
riches of this district, now-a-days, are valuable lead and 
siver mines, worked by the Carthaginians in former times. 
Having seen quite enough of Carthigena in the course of 
the day, we started that evening for Mureia, described in 
books of travel as an Eden of fertility and beauty. 

The railroad at once entered upon a plain gradually 
rising to the north, the aspect of which was peculiar. It 
was carefully ploughed and furrowed, but not the vestige 
of a crop was there to be seen — nothing but the naked 



carthagena sunburnt and arid. 247 

earth. On inquiry, I learnt that the land had been fully- 
prepared and that seed had been sown, but that as no rain 
had fallen since last September, the seed sown had never 
come up. Such a scene must be witnessed to be believed — 
thirty miles of ploughed land without a blade of grass on it, 
for want of moisture. This I was told was the case two 
years out of three; all hope of harvest for this year was 
lost. Even if rain came it would now be too late, the sun 
had become too powerful, and would burn up the grain 
were it to germinate. As it was nearly ripe in other regions, 
this can be easily understood. There was not, however, an 
entire absence of vegetable life, as at and near Carthagena, 
for the plain was sparsely dotted with Fig, Olive, Carouba, 
Almond, Mulberry, and Pomegranate trees, the latter in 
flower. They were all smali, and miserable in their leaf 
development, owing to the drought and to the poverty of 
the soil — a mere calcareous rubble, varied by apparently 
stiff clays. 

In this arid desert, the like of which I never witnessed 
in Algeria, I repeatedly saw tufts of the Chamserops humilis, 
which thus established its right of domicile in south-eastern 
Europe. I also met with it later, between Murcia and 
Alicante, and in dense masses in the Andalusian valleys. 
Near the rare houses or farms were clumps of Opuntia or 
Barbary Fig in flower. The species grown is the one 
without spines, or with soft spines, which the cattle can eat. 
Otherwise, there was no scrub nor " maquis/' no brush- 
wood, .no grasses, nothing for mile after mile but plains 
carefully ploughed and sown by the labour of man ; all to 
no avail. On each side of the wide plain rose limestone 
mountains, presenting basaltic flaws here and there, and 
diminishing in height as the railroad gradually ascended. 
At about 1800 feet above the sea, some thirty miles from 
the shore, where the desolation had become, if possible, 
fiercer — for even the Carouba and Olive trees had given in 
— the Hue turned to the west, and passed through a kind of 
gorge, to descend into the plain of Murcia. 

The plaiu of Murcia is alluvial, in the form of a delta, 
between two ranges of limestone mountains, some 2000 or 
3000 feet high, and is rendered fertile by the presence of a 



248 SPAIN. 

small river, and by a system of irrigation which dates from 
the time of the Moors, and transforms a barren wilderness 
into a perfect garden. The mountain side continued to 
present exactly the same features of barren desolation as 
near Carthagena, until a level was attained which enabled 
the water to be used, and then the transformation was 
magical. By the means of canals of derivation taken at a 
higher level in the valley, a very considerable extent of the 
sloping ground even is brought under the beneficial influence 
of water, and at once smiles with fertility. From the 
barometer, I should say that the irrigation begins about 
] 000 feet above the sea -level. Instantly, the naked, barren, 
furrowed fields give place to Wheat crops, which increase 
in luxuriance as we descend. As the red ferruginous lime 
soil becomes deeper, and richer in humus produced by cen- 
turies of previous cultivation and vegetation, the Caroubas, 
the Olives, the Fig trees become larger — more flourishing ; 
the Vines, up to then, mere dry gnarled roots, rising one 
foot from the ground, show leaves ; Mulberry trees make 
their appearance, then Pomegranates in flower, also Date 
Palms in considerable numbers, in groups of two, three, or 
more, principally near the farms. 

When the level plain was reached, a couple of miles 
from the town of Murcia, the luxuriance of vegetation was 
extreme. Caroubas, Opuntias, and Olives all but disap- 
peared, the land had become too valuable for them. The 
small Fig trees had changed into large forest trees, many 
feet in diameter; the Mulberry was planted thickly along 
the side of the road and around the fields, whilst the ground 
was principally occupied by dense luxuriant crops of Wheat, 
three feet high, just turning colour, with here and there 
patches of Flax, Beans, Peas, and more Palms from twenty 
to seventy or eighty feet high. This luxuriant vegetation 
owed its existence entirely to irrigation, for here, as at 
Carthagena, I was told that it had not rained for six or 
eight months ; but an entire river had been diverted from 
its course and used up. Every plot of cultivated ground 
was surrounded by an irrigation ditch, every field by a 
raised earth bank, some ten inches high, and by this means 
there was the power of throwing water over every foot of 



MURCIA — HOLIDAY COSTUMES. 249 

this artificially fertile region. The river itself rising 1 in 
the mountains of the interior where plenty of rain falls, 
the supply of water is never wanting, however great and 
continuous may be the local drought, even if it lasts for 
years. 

Thus, the fertile plain of Murcia is independent of rain- 
fall. With a never- failing supply of sunshine, heat, and 
water, it has been, from the time of the Moors, who first 
established the system of irrigation, a mere market garden, 
like those at Battersea, and has been cultivated in the 
same way, one crup rapidly succeeding another. As 
a result of this profuse production of the necessaries of 
life in a southern climate — oil, wine, bread, dates, vege- 
tables, fruits — a large town has grown up in the midst of 
it, the town of Murcia with its 45,000 inhabitants, living 
and fattening on Nature's bounty. From the cathedral 
tower is seen clearly the immense delta, with its base on 
the sea, enclosed between two limestone mountain ranges, 
entirely covered with the vegetation I have described, and 
dotted with groups of tall Palms, which give a very Oriental 
appearance to the scenery. 

MURCIA. 

On rising the morning after our arrival at Murcia, and 
leaving the hotel, to look about us, we found out that we 
really were in Spain, in the country of the Barber of 
Seville, of Count Almaviva, of Don Basilio ; everything 
was Spanish. The women had mantillas and fans, and the 
men really wore the elegant fantastical costumes we see 
represented on the stage and in books. The streets were 
narrow, the houses low, the windows protected with iron 
screens, bulging out from the window-sill. The beggars 
were picturesque and importunate. The churches were 
numerous and imposing, towering over the town and 
dwarfing all other buildings, just as the Church of the 
Inquisition, for centuries, towered over and dwarfed free 
judgment and social life in Spain. 

It was Sunday, and the entire population was out of 
doors in holiday costume, which gave us a good opportunity 
of studying costume and race. The lower orders, and the 



250 SPAIN. 

lower middle classes, had clearly a deal of Arab or Moorish 
blood in their veins. Their complexions were swarthy, 
olive coloured, and their eyes and hair generally coal black. 
The women did not strike me as particularly lovely, but 
they had a fire, an animation about their speech and move- 
ments that we seldom see in northern climes. Many of 
the higher class women seemed to belong to a different 
race, for they were fair-skinned, and had brown, even light 
hair. This difference of race characteristics was still more 
marked further north, at Valencia and Madrid. No doubt 
these light-complexioned Spaniards are the lineal descen- 
dants of the northern races that long held Spain in subjec- 
tion, of the Goths and Vandals of early history. 

Whilst at Murcia there was a " Bull-fight," so, as in 
duty bound, we went to witness the performance. It was 
the first exhibition of the kind that I had seen, and will be 
the last that I shall ever witness. I was not so much struck 
with the cruelty of the entire proceeding, although that is 
very great, as with the treachery and barbarity shown to 
the brave bull. The one that I saw fought like a Trojan 
of old, splendidly, magnificently, refusing no enemy, no 
encounter. He turned over the Picadors like men of straw, 
ripped up the horses, and drove all before him like chaff. 
Then, at last, out of breath, tired with his vain efforts to 
get at his enemies, he went to the gate by which he had 
entered, and bellowed to be let out. He seemed to say, " I 
have had enough of this contemptible folly, let me out." 
He was allowed to depart for a few minutes, whilst the 
dead horses were drawn away, and the amphitheatre was 
put in order. Then the portal was opened, and the same 
bull bounded into the arena perfectly furious, bellowing 
and tossing the sand at his feet. He seemed to have 
thought better of it, and to be determined that this time 
he really would make mincemeat of his enemies ; he was 
clearly much more dangerous. Within five minutes he all 
but pinned one of his tormentors to the wooden balustrade, 
making the building resound with the shock, and tearing 
off one of his horns. The man was clearly hurt, for al- 
though he contrived to jump over the balustrade, and to 
quietly walk away, putting a good face on it, he soon dis- 



THE BULL-FIGHT. 251 

appeared, and was seen no more. By this time my sym- 
pathies were thoroughly enlisted on the bull's side. I 
mentally applauded him, saying with the Spanish audience 
"Bravo Toro," and applying to the injured Toreador the 
Yorkshire jury's verdict, "Served him right." Then to 
my indignation, as if in revenge for his noble defence, a 
dozen large bulldogs were let loose on the brave animal. 
They instantly fastened on him, one on each ear, one on 
the tail, two on the neck, and one on his muzzle. The 
poor brute had a perfect chaplet of these bloodthirsty dogs 
hanging on him like leeches. He was quite powerless to 
get rid of them, and kept careering madly round the 
amphitheatre, bellowing piteously all the while. This was 
no longer fair righting, but a brutal persecution of a noble 
beast. AYhen he was all but exhausted, he stood still, 
quivering in the arena, and the master of the dogs came 
forward and pulled them away. 

Freed from his tormentors, his lips torn to shreds, the 
place of his lost horn marked by a gory gash, blood stream- 
ing from his lacerated ears, neck, sides, and tail, he was 
still game, bellowed deliance lustily, and turned round 
once more on his enemies. I thought of Byron's lines^ 
for even then, after so brave a fight, there was to be no 
mercy for him, he had not gained his life by so valiantly 
defending it. 

" Foil'd, bleeding, furious to the last, 
Full in the centre stands the bull at bay, 
']\Iid wounds, and clinging darts and lances brast, 
And foes disabled in the brutal fray. 
And now the matadores around him play, 
Shake the red cloak and poise the ready brand, 
Once more through all be bursts his thundering way. 
Vain rage ! tbe mantle quits the conynge hand, 
"Wraps his fierce eye — 'tis past — he sinks upon the sand !" 

Bybox. Childe Harold. 

And so sank my fierce, brave bull. I mourned over him, 
and left, although the clarion announced other fights. But 
I was myself becoming bloodthirsty, and felt, that had the 
bull pinned one of his tormentors to the earth, as he pinned 
the horses, the sufferer would have had but scant commisera- 



252 Spain. 

tion from me; so I thought it best to depart. It is truly 
a barbarous scene. It would have a redeeming feature if 
the bull could save his life by his bravery, but no, he 
is always butchered, however brilliantly he may fight. He 
may always say, as did the .Roman Gladiator of old, 
when defiling before the Roman emperor, "Moriturus te 
salutat, imperator." " A man about to die salutes thee, 
O emperor." 

Whilst at Murcia I went to see the summer residence of 
the late Lord Howden, formerly our ambassador at Madrid. 
Some twelve years previously he bought a plot of this rich 
land, about a mile from the town, built a house, and made 
a garden. The latter is very interesting as an evidence of 
the rapidity of growth in such a climate, with rich earth 
and water ad libitum. If what his bailiff told me be 
correct, the Date Palm planted under such conditions is by 
no means a slow growing tree, as usually supposed. Palms 
only six years old from the seed were five feet in the stem, 
whilst others, twelve years old, were twelve or fifteen feet ; 
quite young trees. They are planted in profusion, but 
nearly always in beds or ditches, sunk two feet below the 
level, so as to admit of water being turned in, and of their 
being thus literally drenched. This, I was told, was 
repeatedly done during the summer or growing time. In 
the garden (May 1st) there was a profusion of monthly 
Roses, multinora, Bengal, Banksia, and Centifolia, very few 
hybrids; also Hollyhock, Delphinium, Poppy, white Lily, 
Jasminum revolutum, Petunia, Carnation, Pink, Stock, 
with Bignonia jasminoides and Passion Flowers, as climbers, 
all in flower. 

In the public garden at Murcia I found the same flowers; 
that is, with the exception of the last two named, our early 
summer flowers. I was rather surprised to see in a large 
conservatory at Lord Howden's, plants in pots which I 
should have thought would have done well out of doors — 
Pelargoniums, Lantanas, Latania Borbonica, Abutilons, 
Heliotropes — a fact which seemed to imply cold nights and 
some frost in winter. With all its luxuriance this valley 
must then have a very winterly look, when the Mulberry, 
Fig, Pomegranate, Almond, and Vine are all devoid of 



MURCIA AS A WINTER RESORT. 253 

leaves. The Orange trees are numerous in the district, 
But they are generally planted in orchards and not as orna- 
mental trees. Moreover, they are treated in a manner 
which much, diminishes their beauty. When young the 
stem is cut near the ground, and the numerous shoots 
which spring up are preserved, so that the tree grows up as 
a bush and remains so. It is graceful enough as an ever- 
green bush, ten or fifteen feet high, but loses all the 
dignity and beauty of the Orange tree when fully deve- 
loped, as on the Genoese Riviera, at Blidah in Algeria, or 
at Milis in Sardinia. 

I had left Carthagena with a shudder at the very idea of 
being condemned to remain there, not the winter, but even 
a week or two, although, I have no doubt, that the climate 
is exceptionally mild, dry, and healthy in winter. But 
who could remain for months in a filthy, dirty, dusty, 
sunburnt Spanish seaport, a kind of southern Wapping? 
Then there is no accommodation, and probably no food fit 
to eat. The inn we stopped at was wretched, in a narrow 
close street, without comforts or any one redeeming point. 
Thus Carthagena is altogether out of the question as a 
health resort. 

With Murcia I was more agreeably impressed. The 
hotel, although very second rate, was large and more com- 
modious, and the fare was better. I have no doubt that 
life might be arranged with tolerable comfort ; but then 
this hotel, the principal one, is situated in the centre of the 
Spanish town, in a narrow street, from which effluvias, 
anvthing but aromatic, constantly ascended to my windows. 
I have no doubt, from what I saw, that the winter climate 
is pleasant and healthy, dry, sunny, and mild, but I 
presume not sunnier, or milder than is the Genoese Riviera, 
perhaps not as much so. If such is the case, why descend 
to the most southern extremity of Europe, in t : ie most 
south-east corner of Spain, merely to find what can be 
found within a twenty-four hours' journey of Paris ? In 
definitive, my mental conclusion was, that if Lord Walden 
were to kindly offer me, and my friends, his pretty, well- 
built, cheerful, airy villa, on the outskirts of the town, I 
might be tempted to try Murcia, were I still in search 



254 SPAIN. 

of winter quarters ; not otherwise. Even then I should 
have a qualm ; I should ask myself whether the very- 
extensive and perfect irrigation of his flower garden and 
Palm trees, and of the market gardens and Palm trees 
of his neighbours, may not produce ague, fever, malaria, as 
it does in the oases of the Desert of Sahara, and that even 
in mid- winter. 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND GEOLOGY OF SPAIN — MURCIA TO 
ELCHE AND ALICANTE. 

In order to understand the climates and the Very varied 
vegetation of Spain, the examination of which was the 
special object of my visit, we must bear in mind the prin- 
cipal geographical and geological features of the country. 
I will therefore briefly recapitulate them before we proceed 
on our journey to Alicante. 

The peninsula of Spain is a mountain plain or table- 
land, raised from two to three thousand feet above its own 
coasts and above the sea. This tableland is itself divided 
into parallel sections, from east to west, by a series of 
high mountain ranges, all but parallel to the Pyrenees, the 
principal of which are the Sierra Guadarrama, the Sierra 
Toledo, the Sierra Morena, the Sierra Nevada. Between 
these mountain chains are the great central raised plains of 
Spain, more than two thousand feet above the sea-level, and 
formerly the bottoms or beds of seas and estuaries, or of 
freshwater lakes. In these plains run all the large rivers, 
all of which empty themselves into the Atlantic with the 
exception of the Ebro. Their course is parallel to the 
mountain chains. Below this tableland is the coast, some- 
times a mere ledge or underclifT, but oftener presenting 
small alluvial plains of greater or less width, watered by 
the rivers that descend from the higher regions. It will 
be at once understood that such a country must present two 
totally different climates ; the climate of the coast or sea- 
level, that of the latitude in which Spain is situated, and 
the climate of the central raised plains and mountains. 
The latter must be, and is, from its great altitude, a much 
colder climate than that of the coast. 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY — GEOLOGY. 255 

The main features of the geology of Spain are very 
simple and easily retained. The mountain chains enume- 
rated are primary, and form the basis of the geology of 
Spain. They emerged before the secondary period, before 
the secondary formations which surround them. The 
Guadarrama chain is formed of granite, gneiss and crystal- 
line schists j the Toledo chain of granite ; the Morena 
chain of slates, psammites, quartzites, and sandstone ) the 
Nevada chain, S.E. of Granada, of masses of crystalline 
schists with numerous garnets. 

The secondary rocks are represented by the Trias triple^ 
which extends from the Pyrenees to the provinces of 
Asturias and Santander, and also by the Jurassic and 
cretaceous formations, which occupy a vast area in the 
eastern and southern regions of Spain, forming to the 
east mountains many thousand feet high, which constitute 
the separation between the eastern and western watershed, 
and penetrate into the heart of the country along the 
Guadarrama. 

The tertiary formations are represented by nummulitic 
rocks or older tertiaries, always contorted, as at Santander 
and at Malaga, and by miocene or younger tertiary beds or 
deposits, both marine and freshwater. These younger 
tertiaries occupy very extensive areas, principally the plains 
and valleys of the great riyers, the Ebro, Douro, Tagus, 
Guadiana, and Guadalquivir, which, as already stated, were 
formerly seas, estuaries, or freshwater lakes. In some 
regions the miocene and pliocene deposits reach an eleva- 
tion of 2500 feet, which shows how greatly the peninsula 
of Spain must have been raised in comparatively recent 
geological times. Many, both of the freshwater and 
marine fossil shells, belong to species still living. 

For the above geological details, which entirely corroborate 
and give form to my own observations, I am indebted to 
Ford's valuable " Handbook for Spain." I did not bring 
the work with me, expecting to find it at the first Spanish 
port, but could not obtain a copy until I reached Madrid ; 
a hint to other travellers. I would remark also, as a proof 
of the scientific apathy of the Spaniards, that I failed to 
obtain, either at Valencia, the seat of an important univer- 



256 SPAIN. 

sity, or at Madrid, the capital, a geological map of Spain 
or any work on its geology. I was told by all the book- 
sellers to whom I applied, that no snch map or work 
existed, unless in a French or English form, and that as 
there was no demand whatever for such maps or works, 
they did not keep them. The booksellers' shops through- 
out Spain are few and far between, and miserably supplied. 
They appear to contain little else but elementary educa- 
tional works, translations of French novels, and religious 
books. 

Wishing to see the Palm groves of Elche, and the 
country between Murcia and Alicante, we chartered a kind 
of light omnibus, drawn by four mules, and started at 
eight o'clock in the morning. We were to remain two 
hours at Elche, and to reach Alicante by six o'clock, the 
state of the road permitting. The road to Alicante, a 
seaport about forty miles distant, passes in a north-easterly 
direction over a spur of the secondary limestone mountain 
that bounds and forms to the north the vale of Murcia ; 
it again falls into the latter at Orihuela, about twelve 
miles from Murcia. As soon as we had ascended out of 
the reach of irrigation, desolation reappeared ; thousands 
of acres of ploughed land, without a blade of grain or 
grass, without a weed, and vegetation reduced to small 
stunted Olive, Fig, and Carouba trees, especially the 
latter. At the same time, groves, thickets of Opuntias 
showed themselves, all in flower. Men eat the insipid 
fruit, cattle the leaves, so some good is got out of them, 
and they seem all but able to grow out of a burning rock; 
they clearly like the lime soil. On descending again into 
the vale of Murcia at Orihuela, as soon as water is reached, 

the same magical change as before is witnessed. 
... 
The first well is indicated by a house, some vegetation 

around, and two, three, or more Palm trees ; for, as in the 

African Desert, the Palm tree means water, in the soil 

below the surface, a well or a running stream, more surely 

than does the Lombardy Poplar in Continental Europe. 

When steady irrigation commences the same exuberant 

fertility appeared as near Murcia, and the Wheat was also 

turning yellow ; there were Beans, Peas, Flax, large Mul- 



ORIHUELA — PALM GROVES. 257 

berry tree?, Olive, Carouba, Almond, Apricot trees, with 
Vines and Pomegranates. I never before saw such Apricot 
trees, [as large^as fifty year old Oaks, and spreading like 
them. The fruit was beginning to ripen, but is inferior, as 
is the fruit of most trees grown in the open fields on the 
Continent. But the peculiar feature of Orihuela is the 
Palms; they appeared in orchards, in groves, in thickets 
of fifty, a hundred, or more acres, from ten to a hundred 
feet high, exactly like the Palms in India, as one of my 
companions, an Indian officer, stated. 

The explanation of their presence, in such multitudes, in 
this district is that from Carthagena to Alicante, owing to 
the intense heat of the summer, and to the dryness of the 
winter climate, they ripen their fruit, which consequently 
becomes an important object of trade. The Dates are the 
large, farinaceous species, not the soft sweet kind encrusted 
with sugar. Orihuela is a dense hive of human beings, 
19,000 strong, all subsisting on the bounty of Nature thus 
helped by man, and in a great measure on the produce of 
the Palm dates. I remarked throughout this region 
basaltic rocks cropping out of the limestone mountains, 
and it is probable that their presence gives another element 
to the limestone soil, and one that suits the constitution of 
the Date Palm, as I have previously stated. Rather severe 
earthquakes are occasionally felt. 

On rising out of this happy valley, in our track across 
the rainless country, we once more entered calcareous 
plains, sunburnt, and all but devoid of vegetable life. 
They would have been entirely so had it not been for the 
Carouba, Olive, and Fig, which here again, although 
stunted, manage to live through all these difficulties. 
These trees possess roots that have the power of travelling 
nearly any distance, or dipping down nearly any depth in 
search of food and water. They are, as my Mentone 
gardener calls them, "robbers/"' and I have had to extirpate 
the Fig entirely in my Riviera garden, for wherever I 
made a rich border, there I found his roots at the end of a 
year or two. This explains their power of resistance to 
drought, coupled with a constitution suited to intense heat 
and to long-continued vegetative rests or sleeps during hot 

S 



258 SPAIN. 

dry weather. But although they can thus live on for a 
year or more, all but without water, merely moistened by 
the dew of heaven, they do not produce fruit, or at least 
eatable fruit, under such adverse circumstances. It made 
me quite sad to see so much labour and seed wasted, an 
entire country cleaned, ploughed, and sown, and not even a 
crop of weeds to dig in for the next season. On one occa- 
sion I left the carriage and walked over twenty or thirty 
acres of the ploughed land, and only found half-a-dozen 
herbaceous Euphorbias, some three or four inches high ; two 
or three small Thistles, and a small Convolvulus flower, at the 
bottom of a ditch. The calcareous mountain ridges to the 
north-west, which we skirted, were more bare than the white 
cliffs of Dover in their most precipitous part. Truly did 
they seem the bare bones of the earth piercing its skin. 

After a progress of some twenty miles through this 
cultivated wilderness, we came to another valley, and then 
burst on our astonished eyes an oasis of the African desert, 
such as we had wished to see in Africa, but had not seen 
— a forest of tropical Date Palms, extending over a vast 
region, many miles in circumference, and surrounding the 
famed village or town of Elche. The river bed was crossed 
by a good bridge, but in it there was no river. It had 
been taken up bodily by the inhabitants, and distributed 
in canals to their friends and bread-givers the Palms. I 
remained here several hours, and walked miles in the Palm 
forest, the like of which my Indian companion had never 
seen in the tropics. There were canals full of water 
Mowing rapidly in every direction, and the ground was 
everywhere prepared for constant irrigation, in trenches, 
in squares, in parallelograms, banked up by earth walls 
one or two feet high. Water was constantly let into these 
trenches and squares, and allowed slowly to soak in so as 
to moisten the soil thoroughly, wherever there were 
rcots. Thus, again, was I reminded of the Arab saying, 
that the Palm " must have his roots in the water, and his 
head in the fire."" There were Palms of all sizes, from 
twenty to eighty feet of every shape and direction. 
Some erect, like the Trajan column of Rome, others 
gracefully twisted or inclined. Sometimes they were 



APEICOT TREES — A SPANISH INN. 259 

growing capriciously, sometimes in rows, or in squares, 
methodically planted. The Date forest was most evidently 
a valuable property, and the boundary of each proprietor's 
grounds was protected by walls, with doors here and there, 
admitting of easy ingress and egress. The dates were 
beiug" gathered from some of the trees, whilst other trees, 
sometimes the same one, were in full flower. In some 
regions of the forests, where the Palms were not so close 
together, there were vegetables, Peas, Beans, growing 
underneath them, but this was the exception. Evidently 
the dates were too valuable a crop, like lemons at Men- 
tone, for everything else not to give way to them, wherever 
they could be cultivated, alias irrigated. The land appeared 
to be a calcareous loam, but on examining the empty river 
bed, I found it a mass of siliceous sand, so that, no doubt, 
the soil in the district is impregnated with silex. The 
dates are gathered by boys, who swarm up the trees, an 
operation that was easily performed by a small boy for our 
edification. Like those at Murcia and Orihuela, they are of 
the solid farinaceous variety. The soft saccharine Saharian 
dates, which are principally imported into northern Europe, 
I did not see in Spain. In the Algerine Desert and in 
Egypt this variety of the date is more valued and more 
expensive, because it is the one chosen for exportation, but 
the solid farinaceous variety is preferred for food, as in 
Spain. In this country the dates ripened on the south- 
eastern coast are extensively used as an article of food. I 
saw large quantities of them in all the markets I visited. 

Near Elche I also saw many of the fine Apricot trees 
before described, growing like oaks, in the open fields, and 
covered with fruit, nearly ripe. The Apricot clearly likes 
dry warm soils of a silico-calcareous nature. This fact, 
perhaps, explains my great success with Apricot trees on 
walls (the Moor Park), in my hot sandy garden in Surrey. 
I each year raise on a south wall, with the assistance of 
spring protection, the most luscious and the largest Apricots 
I have ever seen. I have totally failed to obtain a crop 
with these same trees in the rich artificial loam of a large 
glass orchard house. 

At Elche, we dined at a Posada, or Inn, which exem- 



260 SPAIN". 

plified in its construction Spanish ways as applied to a warm 
burning climate. The centre of the house was like an 
immense barn, with a very heavy roof, and in one corner 
was a deep well of pure cool water. As in the Desert of 
Sahara, in these sunburnt regions, near mountains, there is 
often water in lakes, rivers, and springs, below the surface, 
although, the latter is parched and sunburnt. If the water 
can be reached, man settles round the precious well, and 
his labour irrigates the country around, producing luxuriant 
vegetation wherever the water can be applied. But the 
labour is great, a fact which limits its fertilizing powers to 
a small area. No doubt many of these districts might 
be fertilized by Artesian wells. In this barn-like disem- 
bowelled house or cavern were several carriages and carts 
drawn up in a corner, many implements of husbandry, and 
all kinds of odds and ends. It was evidently the kitchen, 
parlour, and hall, as well as wash house, store, and lumber 
room ; and a very pleasant cavern house it seemed in the 
heat even of early May. Behind was a yard, and behind 
that a roomy stable, with standing for a hundred horses, 
or rather mules, the animal generally used in Spain on 
account of its hardihood and sobriety. 

Between Elche and Alicante I found the same cultivated 
barrenness, the same brown naked fields, dotted with a few 
stunted Caroubas, Olives, and Figs; even on arriving at 
Alicante the desolation of thirst did not cease. 



ALICANTE. 

Alicante has a good port, in a good bay, which brings 
commerce, but it has no valley, no river, only one good 
spring, which never dries up, and does not even much 
diminish in years of drought. This spring, situated about 
a mile from the town, is, I was told, really a fountain of 
life for Alicante, inasmuch as it supplies the thirst and 
" occasional" ablutions of a town ot 31,500 inhabitants; 
with the assistance, however, of large rain-water tanks 
used for retaining rain when it does fall. The town 
itself after this winter's drought was like Carthagena, a 



ALICANTE. 261 

mere crater to a volcano, without vegetation, with the ex- 
ception of a few stunted Acacias, Caroubas, and other trees 
with sparse foliage, planted along the sides of the main 
road, each in a deep circular bricked hole some four feet in 
diameter, for irrigation. There was an attempt at a garden 
in a square on one side of the town, where Monthly and 
Bengal Hoses, Poppies, Antirrhinums, Delphiniums, and 
Iberis, with Virginian Stock, formed the flower-beds, 
without a trace of winter gardening. From the castle rock 
we saw one green spot in the town, the garden of the 
governor, who evidently gets the lion's share of the water. 
The coast is rocky, and the sea and bay are picturesque. 

The town itself is open, not surrounded by walls, and 
the principal streets near the port are wide and clean. It 
lies at the south-eastern base of a rock ^00 feet high, 
on which is perched the castle, which thus completely 
commands the city. There is a large hotel, the " Fonda 
del Vapor," with an obliging host, at which we were made 
quite comfortable. This hotel occupies an extensive build- 
ing, formerly a custom house. It is opposite the port, an 
objection, as the ways of the labourers of a southern sea- 
port are not always pleasant to witness. 

The town is so dusty, so sunburnt, so arid, so dried up, 
so devoid of vegetation, and consequently so desolace, that 
a residence here for months would be a sad penance. 
Otherwise Alicante appears to me decidedly the most 
favourable health station that I have seen on the south- 
eastern coast of Spain. The climate must be mild, sunny, 
and dry, and there are no rice grounds to produce malaria 
as at Murcia or Valencia. There is a Huerta, or Irrigated 
valley, it is true, connected with Alicante, but it is situated 
at some distance north of the town. I had no time to 
visit it, but was told that in this valley, as in those of 
Murcia and Valencia, owing to the presence of water, 
vegetation never flags, and the crops follow each other in 
rapid succession all the year round. 

Indeed, the entire province of Murcia, from Carthagena 
to Alicante, must be exceptionally favoured in winter — 
dry, sunny, cool, and bracing. Its vegetation indicates 
the same climate characteristics as those that obtain on the 



262 SPAIN, 

Genoese underclifT, great heat in summer, exceptional 
dryness and mildness in winter. Thus we have in both 
regions, growing luxuriantly, Date Palms, Lemon, Orange, 
Carouba trees, Opuntias, Aloes. The dryness of Murcia 
must, however, be greater than that of the Riviera, 
inasmuch as the fertility of the one is entirely owing to 
irrigation, whereas in the other it results in a great measure 
from natural rainfall. The dryness of Murcia is so extreme 
that the entire province resembles the Desert of Sahara., 
where nothing grows spontaneously, except in the beds of 
torrents, and on the margin of springs, or of lakes, which are 
dry part of the year. I was greatly struck with the sudden 
change from Algeria to Murcia : I left Algeria a very 
garden of verdure, of fertility, and found Spain "the 
desert" Algeria is so erroneously presumed to be. 

I believe that all forms of disease requiring such a climate, 
all that I have enumerated in the medical chapter on the 
Riviera as likely to benefit by mild, dry, bracing winter 
weather, would do well in any part of Murcia. I do not 
say "equally" well, because it remains to be proved by 
actual experience whether extreme dryness, an atmosphere 
where it often does not rain twice in the winter, may not be 
too stimulating ; periods of long drought in winter at Men- 
tone have often appeared to me to be so. But to test this 
question, and for Murcia to be a safe winter refuge for 
great invalids, there is still much wanted. An English or 
foreign company with a large capital, should build a good 
hotel in the suburbs of Carthagena, Murcia, Orihuela, 
Elche, or Alicante, for they must be all good stations as 
regards 'winter climate. A choice situation should be 
selected, an abundant supply of water obtained by means 
of an Artesian well, a nice ilower and shrub garden there- 
with created, and the decencies and comforts of northern 
civilization secured. Were there such an hotel, I should 
be quite willing to spend a winter there myself. No doubt 
there are in many regions of Murcia subterranean water- 
courses, and springs capable of being tapped and brought 
to the surface if proper means were employed, and thus the 
area of its fertility might be greatly extended. 

The very costume of the inhabitants of the province of 



ALICANTE TO VALENCIA. 263 

Murcia indicates a dry mild winter climate, as that of the 
inhabitants of Algiers indicates a moist cool one. The 
latter wear one, two, or three thick woollen bournons with 
hoods, which envelop them from the head to the feet. 
The former merely wear linen drawers, ending a little below 
the knee, and a linen tunic, which is fastened by a girdle 
at the waist, and descends nearly to the knees. It is a 
kind of Greek costume. The head is covered with a species 
of turban cap, and the soles of the feet are slipped in rope 
sandals, which leave the feet naked, and would in no way 
defend them from wet or mud. On holidays, and no doubt 
generally in winter, they wear on their shoulders a many- 
coloured scarf, or manta, as it is called, as the Highlander 
wears his plaid. 

ALICANTE TO VALENCIA. 

The railroad by which we left Alicante for Valencia goes 
all but due west for about fifteen miles, over calcareous 
mountain slopes, exactly of the same character as those by 
which we entered Alicante. The country bore precisely 
the same stamp of dryness — of vain attempts to raise by 
careful and laborious husbandry a grain crop. The fields 
were all limited by the same little banks of earth some 
eight or ten inches high, to keep in rain that had never 
come. It was painful to think of the loss, and probably ruin, 
entailed on the cultivators of the soil by a succession of 
seasons such as the present, for the stunted Carouba, Olive, 
and Fig trees showed that the drought, although greater 
this year than usual, was not an exceptional event. Indeed 
what I have seen in this region, in Africa, and elsewhere in 
the south of Europe, has led me to the conviction that with 
all the uncertainty of our climate, our agriculturists are 
better off than those in many regions usually considered 
more favoured. Wherever a deep well can reach water, 
there we found one, with a homestead, a few trees, and a 
sparse cultivation. We constantly saw, here and elsewhere, 
the entire family, father, mother, children, at work, drawing 
water, by means, not of bucket and rope, but of a long 
pole worked as a lever. At an elevation of 1000 feet, we 



264 Spain. 

readied a valley through which flows the little river that, 
nearer the sea, fertilizes the Palm forests of "Elche. With 
control over water, at once commenced determined efforts 
at cultivation. Fig, Olive, Almond; and Carouba trees, 
and patches of cereals, occupied the valley, whilst Vines 
extended over the hill-sides. Gradually, as the elevation 
became greater, the valley was too steep, and the course of 
the small river too torrential to admit of irrigation on an 
extensive scale; the Fig, Olive, and Carouba trees were 
scantier and smaller, and Vines, all but alone, occupied the 
southern slopes of the hills. 

The soil became very stony and poor, so that, although 
the Wheat crop, here and there, had come out of the 
ground, it was only three or four inches high, meagre 
and thin. About thirty miles from the shore, at an 
elevation of some 2200 feet, we reached the tableland 
of central Spain. The soil continued to be of the same 
character, a thin vegetable loam lying on calcareous rocks, 
until we came to the junction of the Madrid Railway, at 
Alcanzar, 2200 feet above the sea-level. We were then 
in the high plains of central Spain which form Old and 
New Castile. Not a tree was to be seen in any direction, 
nothing but naked plains, mountains bounding the horizon, 
and fields in vain tilled with the plough for Wheat. A 
more wretched-looking district, agriculturally, I never 
saw. The Wiltshire downs are fertility in comparison ; 
the Carouba, Olive, and Fig trees had abandoned us, and 
were replaced by nothing, neither tree nor bush. 

Our progress was so slow that we had plenty of leisure 
for observation. The Spanish railways are only made with 
one line of rails, and the rails themselves are much lighter 
than in England or France. Consequently, frequent stop- 
pages take place, and the speed is not greater than about 
fifteen miles an hour. Although the railways, which now 
connect nearly all the principal towns with Madrid, have 
rendered travelling in ISpain infinitely more commodious 
than formerly, it is still very tedious. The carriages are as 
good as our own. 

At Alicante we left (May 6) a temperature of 76° by day 
and 70° by night, and a midsummer vegetation. When we 



ALICANTE TO VALENCIA CENTRAL SPAIN. 265 

arrived on the central plains we had gone hack to April. 
The thermometer was 60°, the wind cold, the cereals only 
just appearing above the ground, and the few trees we 
saw at the stations, principally Acacia and Melia Azeda- 
rach, just coming into leaf. The latter is very commonly 
grown for ornament in Spain, and is called Paraiso in 
Andalusia. It has a pretty flower, very much like the 
Lilac, but its foliage is thin, so that it really does not de- 
serve the esteem in which it is held ; probably from its 
indifference to drought and dryness. After continuing our 
route for some hours in a north-westerly direction through 
this bleak, treeless, calcareous plain, without farms or 
houses, occasionally stopping at villages or small towns, 
formed by an agglomeration of sunburnt dwellings huddled 
on the top or side of a hill, we turned eastward, and began 
to descend towards Valencia. 

As soon as the brow of the mountain was passed, and 
a south-eastern exposure was obtained, even at an elevation 
of 20l)0 feet, as indicated by an aneroid barometer, stunted 
Olive and Fig trees, with Vines, made their appearance. 
The hill-side presented also in every direction deep water- 
worn ravines, the beds of former rivers and torrents. I say 
u former" because it is clear that now no considerable body 
of water ever flows through them, inasmuch as in the very 
beds of these ravines are planted Fig and Olive trees, which 
any considerable rush of water during the previous twenty 
or forty years would clearly have carried away. These dry 
tree planted watercourses clearly imply a change of climate, 
probably the result of the forest denudation of the plains I 
had crossed in the morning*. 

In former historic days these plains were covered with 
forest trees, which the inhabitants have ruthlessly destroyed, 
partly for fuel and building, and partly in compliance with 
an insane but universal prejudice. The Spanish peasantry 
think that trees harbour birds, and that as birds destroy the 
cereals, the only way to get rid of the birds is to cut down 
the trees. Thus have they, in the long run, changed the 
climate of Central Spain, modified the natural rainfall, and 
made the central plains only a degree less dry than the 
rainless eastern coast. 



266 spain. 

As the line descends, the Olive and Fig trees become 
larger, and Carouba trees appear, until at about 1200 feet 
elevation the scene changes into one of exuberant fertility. 
Water — water in abundance, a real river — has been reached ; 
systematic, scientific irrigation, a gift of the Moors in times 
gone by, carries the water everywhere ; and the rich vege- 
tation of the irrigated valleys of Murcia and Orihuela is 
again reproduced, even in a more grandiose style. The rail 
reaches at this elevation the southern boundary of a trian- 
gular plain, or sloping valley, with its base to the sea east- 
wards, through which three small rivers run from the 
central mountainous tableland to the sea. Wherever their 
waters can be carried by irrigation, the sunshine and heat, 
combined with protection from northern winds and zealous 
traditional cultivation, produce the most wonderful fertility. 
This fertility increases as we descend to the sea, as the 
conditions of heat and protection increase, as the alluvial 
soil becomes deeper, and as complete and repeated irrigation 
becomes easier. 

The vegetation is exactly the same as in the valley of 
Murcia. Large Olive, Fig, and Carouba trees, the latter 
always in the driest situations, the least accessible to irri- 
gation, often magnificent trees like Oaks; Apricot trees of 
the same size, really beautiful to look at, but covered with 
second-rate fruit ; Vines on the hill-side ; Cereals, Beans, 
Peas, on the irrigated levels, the former three feet high, 
thick, luxuriant in the ear. As we approach Valencia there 
are orchards of Pomegranate and Orange trees, the latter 
spoilt, as at Murcia, by being grown in bushes, cut down 
close to the ground and allowed to grow up with a dozen 
stems, like large Portugal Laurels. I had heard so much 
about the Orange groves of Valencia that I was greatly 
disappointed ; these bush trees are not to be compared for 
beauty to the large Orange trees of other sheltered regions 
of the Mediterranean. I presume they are cultivated in 
this way as a protection from the wind, which Orange trees 
cannot stand, especially if it comes from the north, north- 
east, or north-west. 

As the lower levels are reached a new feature appears — 
extensive Kice fields. These fields, on the river side, are 



VALENCIA. 267 

surrounded with mounds of earth some eighteen inches 
high. The soil is ploughed, water is let in to soak it 
thoroughly, then the Rice is sown, water is again let in to 
the depth of six inches, and the seed ploughed in a second 
time under the water, the men and mules working with the 
plough knee deep. The water is allowed to remain on the 
land, renewed as it sinks in, and the Rice comes up as a 
water plant. From the cathedral tower of Valencia the 
entire expanse of this fruitful region is seen, extending 
down to the sea. Valencia is three miles from the coast, 
and the entire district is dotted with these Rice grounds. 
They are a serious drawback to the public health, giving 
rise, it is said, to much intermittent fever in the autumn. 

Spanish writers, and travellers in general, go into rap- 
tures about the wondrous beauty of these fertile valleys, 
but I must confess that I cannot join with them. Rice, 
corn, beans, scattered oil-producing Olive trees, silk- 
producing pollard Mulberry trees, Pomegranates, Vines, 
Orange bushes in rows like soldiers, are all very well in 
their way as evidences of cultivation and of a fertile soil, 
but unquestionably they no more conduce to beautiful 
scenery than does the cultivation of the market gardens 
round London or Paris. Indeed, these far-famed valleys 
are market gardens, nothing more, and bounded as they are 
by barren, naked, calcareous hills, they are inferior in natural 
beauty to any of the spurs of the Atlas ranges in Algeria, 
clothed with Ilex, Thuja, Mountain Ash, Cytisus, Lentiscus, 
or to any mountain vale in England in summer time. In 
winter, too, as many of the trees — the Fig, the Mulberry, 
the Apricot, the Pomegranate, the Vine — are deciduous, 
they must look nearly as naked and desolate as valleys in 
old England, more so than our conifer clothed districts. 

VALENCIA. 

Valencia is one of the largest cities of Spain, with a 
population of 108,000. It covers a large area of ground, 
and is the centre of Spanish civilization on the eastern 
coast. It has all the resources of a great city, including 
very tolerable hotels. Although the winter climate is no 



268 SPAIN. 

doubt exceptionally good, it cannot, however, be considered 
a health city. The streets are very narrow, mere lanes, and 
the hotels are all situated, for convenience, in the very 
centre of the town, or in the small central squares. They 
are built and managed for the reception of commercial 
travellers, and of the travelling- public in general, not for 
that of health tourists, who are not wanted, expected, or 
prepared for. The large commercial cities of the Continent, 
such as Barcelona, Valencia, Malaga, Marseilles, Naples, 
may be compared to Bristol, Liverpool, Glasgow in Eng- 
land. They are not health cities, but social and commercial 
centres, in which invalids and sick people are not thought 
of. Health towns, such as Cheltenham, Tunbridge Wells, 
Torquay, Pan, Nice, and Mentone do not exist in Spain. 
Thus although the winter climate is excellent in some of 
these cities, real invalids cannot comfortably or prudently 
remain because there is no provision for them. Then the 
Bice grounds round Valencia are as much against a residence 
in the suburbs as the confined, close, stuffy streets are against 
a residence in the interior of the town. Lodgings might 
be had, I was told, on the Promenade, the Alameda, but 
how far the double influence would be avoided, and how far 
Spanish lodgings could be made comfortable, I cannot say. 

I would add, that as regards climate, although I believe 
that the winter climate of Valencia is dry, sunny, and 
mild, I much question whether it presents any advantage 
over the much more accessible Genoese Riviera. Indeed, 
from the examination of the vegetation, I found reason to 
conclude that the winter protection from north winds is 
less, and the winter cold greater at Valencia, as at Murcia. 

Whilst at Valencia I went over the Botanic Garden 
carefully. It appears to be more viewed and directed as a 
pleasure garden than as a scientific establishment, but even 
as such was interesting. The plants in flower (May 6) 
were the common flowers of our English gardens for June 
and July ; Monthly and Bengal Roses, with a few hybrid, 
and Tea Roses, Delphinium, Antirrhinum, Iberis, Iris, 
Stocks, Silene, Jasmin um revolutum, Ranunculus, Esch- 
scholtzia, Sweet William, Poppies, Verbena, Spiraea, Hab- 
rothamnus, Pseonies, Nasturtium, Pinks, Aquilegia, Petunia, 



VALENCIA — THE BOTANIC GARDENS. 269 

Carnations, Collinsia, Viburnum, Convolvulus minor, Tri- 
tonia erocata, Oak-leaved Pelargonium, Virginian Stock, 
Aubrietia, Hydrangea. There was a glass-house, much 
neglected, in which I found Bougainvilleas, Lautanas, 
Vincas, Heliotropes, Pelargoniums, Cinerarias, Coleus, as 
at Murcia. In this glass-house were all the Palms, and 
Cvcadaceae, which are grown in the open air on the 
Genoese Riviera, with the exception of some Chamserops 
humilis and Latania Borbonica, planted out in a very- 
sheltered spot. Thus it contained Corypha Australis, 
Caryota, Dion edule, Thrinax, Cycas revoluta, Cordylines, 
Dracaenas, Yuccas, Ficus repens, Pereskia, Aralia, Philo- 
dendron, Russelia juncea, Cyperus alternifolius, Banana. 
There were Abutilons and Oleanders in the garden, but 
not in flower. It is from the above facts that I feel 
authorized to conclude, that the winter cold is greater 
at Valencia than on the Riviera. If it were not so, why- 
should plants that we can cultivate with ease in the open 
air be placed in glass-houses, and why also should the open 
gardens contain little else but what is found in the gardens 
of more northern European regions ? This can. be easily 
understood. The east coast of Spain, favoured as it is in 
climate, is bounded, north and west, by high mountains, 
and the towns of Murcia, Alicante, Valencia, are at some 
distance from the foot of these mountains — that is, from 
their protection — so that the cold winds fall down upon 
them. The Genoese Riviera, on the contrary, is at the 
very foot of the mountain wall that protects it ; and the 
cold winds, passing over, leave it basking in the south sun. 
At Valencia and in this region generally, the Lemon tree 
is only grown exceptionally, in very sheltered and warm 
situations, although in such localities it succeeds thoroughly. 
Nowhere did I find it grown in large orchards facing the 
sea, as on the Riviera, between Nice and San Remo. 
There were some large timber trees in the garden, which 
are often met with on the promenades in these regions of 
Spain : Paulownia imperialis, with elegant blue terminal 
flowers ; Celtis australis, a large beautiful tree ; Diospyros 
Lotus, Crataegus melanocarpa, Gleditschia triacanthos, 
Sophora Japonica, Schinus Mulli, Melia Azedarich. 



270 SPAIN. 

I had now travelled over a considerable portion of the 
south-east coast of Spain, from Carthagena to Valencia, 
and had studied the vegetation and climate with intense 
interest. I had read of rainless tracts, but I had never 
seen such an one before, not even on the borders of the 
Sahara, and I was told it continues to Barcelona. If the 
rivers which descend from the mountain tableland of Spain 
were cut off, and if this sub-Alpine coast were left to the 
rains of heaven, it would clearly be a desert. It would be 
like the regions of the Desert of Sahara beyond the reach 
of the torrents that, falling in winter on the most southern 
ridges of the^ Atlas, run down their southern slopes, sink 
into the sands, and give rise to the oases by reascending to 
the surface. 

The fact was clear, but what is the cause ? Why should 
the east coast of Spain be nearly as rainless as the Desert 
of Sahara? It can easily be understood that the high 
mountains that fringe the western coast of Portugal and 
Spain should arrest the moisture of the north-west and 
south-west Atlantic winds, but why do not the north- 
easterly winds, which are reigning winds in winter in the 
Mediterranean, and which bring torrents of rain to Algeria, 
also bring rain to the eastern coast of Spain ? I think my 
previous journey to Algeria gave the key to this singular 
fact in physical geography. 

I believe that these north-easterly winds are actually 
sucked in by the Great Desert of Sahara before they reach 
the Spanish shore. The vacuum formed by the rising into 
the upper regions of space of the air heated by the sandy 
surface of the Great Desert is attended with a rush of air 
from the Mediterranean, sucked in to fill its place. From 
whatever quarters the wind comes, when it reaches the 
southern regions of the Mediterranean it feels the influence 
of the African Desert, and rushes south, bringing moisture 
to Algeria, to the Atlas mountains and valleys, and leaving 
the eastern coast of Spain in dry calmness. This is pro- 
bably the real explanation of the calm we met when forty 
miles from the coast, on crossing from Oran, and not the 
protection of Cape de Gata. The wind that opposed our 
progress on leaving Oran was rushing down to the Desert, 



THE CENTRAL TABLELAND. 271 

and we left it behind us. Thus is explained a saying at 
Alicante that the bay is so habitually calm that it is a 
" woman's and child's sea/' as also the fact of the Mar- 
seilles and Algiers steamers always seeking shelter on the 
Spanish coast in storms. 

VALENCIA TO CORDOVA OVER THE TABLELAND OF SPAIN. 

The journey from Valencia to Cordova by rail takes the 
traveller into the centre of Spain, and of the high table- 
land (New Castile) in a westerly direction, then descends 
due south, crosses the Sierra Morena, and follows the valley 
of the Guadalquivir. For many hours, for hundreds of 
miles, the line crosses the monotonous calcareous plains 
already described, treeless and houseless, with no cattle to 
enliven the scene. The entire region seemed cultivated, 
but half or two-thirds was bare of all crops, lying fallow. 
This is, it appears, the Spanish system of cultivation, as 
with us ages ago. The land, naturally poor, with a thin 
soil lying on a calcareous base, very like the chalk downs 
and fields of Wiltshire, seldom or never manured, is allowed 
to lie fallow one or two years out of three, and thus to 
recover itself by the unaided efforts of Nature. The owner 
supplies the seed, and he and the tenant divide the crop. 
So in the years of drought or inactivity, as there is no rent 
paid or received, tenant and landlord both get on, if they 
can only keep body and soul together. Moreover, they both 
seem to be quite satisfied if this can be accomplished, and 
with their abstemious habits very little suffices. 

The fact, too, of the entire population being aggregated 
in towns, as in the Middle Ages, when men had to unite 
for mutual protection, at a distance from the seat of their 
labours, is a very great drawback, a national one. The 
men, with their southern fear of moisture, stay from work 
if it rains, or appears likely to rain, for festivities, for any 
excuse ; the women gossip all day, the children play about 
in the streets. Thus the peasant squanders his own time, 
and does not get that assistance from his family which he 
does when they ail live in the centre of the field of labour. 

No cattle are seen, and very few are kept on these plains , 



272 SPAIN. 

and I was told that the value of manure is so little known 
that the peasantry require paying to take it away from the 
towns. As may he supposed, with such a soil and such 
views of cultivation, the rising crops of cereals, only from 
two to four inches high, were very thin, poor, and mise- 
rable, offering but little promise for the future. Even at 
this high elevation, from 2000 to 2500, or 3000 feet, there 
had been but little rain, and further rain, before the 
summer heat sets in, was anxiously expected. As already 
explained, the rainfall from the Atlantic winds is arrested 
by the high mountains on the western coast of Spain and 
of Portugal, whilst the easterly winds seem scarcely to 
reach this region of Spain, or to bring no rain with them. 
The destruction of the timber adds no doubt to the drought, 
as trees are well known to attract rain, in plains as well as 
on mountains. As to temperature, we had gone back to 
early April in England, and the cold was positively bitter, 
very trying after a month in Algeria and south-eastern 
Spain. There was not the vestige of a southern climate 
in the aspect of Nature. 

As the railway descending due south approaches . the 
Sierra Morena mountains, the direction of which is 
east and west, the geological nature of the soil changes. 
The calcareous soil and rocks are replaced by a siliceous 
soil, by schistic and sandstone rocks. With this change 
of soil at once appears a change in vegetation. The 
change is observed both north and south of the Morena 
mountains, which are crossed at first through picturesque 
gorges, and then by a tunnel at an elevation of 2600 feet. 
The familiar shrubs of the Corsican and Atlas granitic 
sandstone and schistic ranges reappear. The Cistus or 
Bock Rose, the Broom— the common European form with- 
out spines, not the prickly Broom of the above regions ; 
Thuja and Juniper Bushes, the Maritime and Aleppo 
Pines, Myrtle, Lentiscus, Mountain Lavender, and on 
the south side great numbers of the Chamserops humilis 
Palm. The Tamarisk fringes the river sides, and the 
Oleander is often seen along with it. Thus in Andalusia 
the vegetation of Northern Africa, of the Atlas ranges 
and rivers, is reproduced, especially along the course of the 



VALLEY OF THE GUADALQUIVIR. 273 

Guadalquivir, and more decidedly than in Corsica, where, 
as stated, I never saw the Tamarisk, Oleander, nor Chamae- 
rops. It is singular that the Ckamserops Palm should be 
described as peculiar to Algeria, for in this part of Anda- 
lusia it is as common as Gorse on English heaths. I saw 
thousands of acres covered with this dwarf Palm, growing 
luxuriantly in tufts. Indeed it evidently propagates itself 
spontaneously wherever the soil in the Guadalquivir valley 
is too poor to tempt cultivation. As I had seen it likewise 
in the basaltic soils near Carthagena and Murcia, I have no 
doubt that it is to be found all over Southern Spain in 
siliceous districts, just as in Algeria, where it disappears 
the moment the soil becomes calcareous. This is another 
evidence of the geological union of Africa and Europe in 
former days. 

After passing the Sierra Morena the line descends 
rapidly, and soon reaches an elevation of 600 or 700 feet 
only. Then with a southern exposure, protection from 
north winds, more rain than on the eastern coast, and a 
sandy soil, vegetation becomes much more luxuriant than 
on the elevated central plain that we had just left. Still I 
saw nothing to warrant the raptures of poets and travellers 
when describing the far-famed Guadalquivir valley. It 
seems to me that these raptures are rather the result of 
comparison with surrounding nakedness and sterility than 
of any actual exuberant fertility of the valley itself. 
Although there is a good sized river rolling its precious 
waters in the midst of a wide and level plain, there is no 
irrigation. This at first puzzled me, for the entire region 
was many centuries in the hands of the Moors, who are 
the people who made and established the irrigation works 
of the really luxuriant valleys of Murcia, Valencia, and 
Granada. Indeed Cordova, which is built on the river 
bank, was the centre, the capital of their dominion. Then 
it occurred to me that it may be of but little use to irrigate 
a poor sandy soil, as the water must all sink through it, 
and do no good commensurate with the expense incurred. 
The valleys named above, where such extensive irrigation 
works have existed for centuries, and where they secure 
exuberant fertility, all principally contain lime soils. 

x 



274 spain. 

Where the sandy or gravelly soil through which we 
passed was cultivated, the crops were thin and poor — in- 
deed wretched, and that without the excuse of altitude. 
Side by side with these cultivated regions were wide moor- 
lands covered with bush Ilex, Mountain Lavender, Broom, 
and the Chamaarops Palm, which no doubt in former days 
extended over the entire region, and yet remains, as we 
have seen, on the poorer uncultivated soils, just as Heather 
and Gorse remain with us. Still the country had a verdant, 
smiling look. In the vicinity of villages and towns, gene- 
rally built near the river, in regions where the alluvial 
soil is deeper, are groves of Olives, Figs, Pomegranates, 
and as we neared Cordova occasional Palms — the Phoenix 
dactylifera — were seen. The hill-sides in the distance 
were no longer naked, as in the lime regions, but clothed 
more or less with Ilex, Cork Oaks, Pines. Indeed, poor, . 
sandy, gravelly soils, when covered with very little vege- 
table soil, are everywhere, even in dry, warm climates, 
more verdant, more luxuriant with their peculiar vegeta- 
tion than lime rocks, hills, or soils under the same condi- 
tions. The vegetation that clothes these soils bears drought 
better, also, than that which lives in rich alluvial soils, 
especially when they rest on clay. The reason is no doubt 
that in sandy, gravelly soils the roots of the plants, shrubs, 
and trees can go down all but any distance in search of 
moisture and find it, whereas on lime soils and rocks, or on 
clays, when they reach the subsoil they stop short, and 
have to depend only for nourishment and moisture on what 
they find above. 

Thus I remember, in the very dry summer of 1868, 
being very much struck by the difference between the state 
of the vegetation of Surrey and Middlesex. In Surrey, 
where my country residence is situated, and where much of 
the soil is sand or gravel, the Weymouth Pines, Spruce 
Firs, Scotch Firs, Birch, Beech, Oaks, Chestnuts, Heather, 
were perfectly healthy and green in August, after three 
months'' drought. There was no perceptible difference as 
compared with other years. But when I crossed the river 
into Middlesex, on the rich alluvial soils lying on clay, I 
found a totally different state of things. The ground 



CORDOVA AND SEVILLE. 275 

vegetation was parched — all but reduced to hay, and the 
trees were losing" their leaves as in November. Another 
reason may possibly be adduced, as my gardener suggested. 
Our Surrey plants are like poor people, accustomed to poor 
fare, so when a famine comes they bear privation better 
than their richer Middlesex neighbours, accustomed to 
a richer and better dietary. 

CORDOVA. AND SEVILLE. 

At Cordova and at Seville, both on the Guadalquivir 
river, latitude 37°, the same climate and vegetative con- 
ditions appear to prevail as on the south-east coast. The 
Date Palm is seen here and there, grown for ornament, 
not for fruit, which no doubt does not ripen. Orange 
trees grow splendidly in courtyards and gardens, protected 
by high walls from the north winds, as in the court- 
yard of the cathedral and in the gardens of the Alcazar at 
Seville; but they are not seen, as trees, in open, unpro- 
tected spaces, exposed to the north. In the public gardens, 
which are numerous, I found (May 11), the common 
garden flowers so often enumerated, about six weeks earlier 
than in the north of Europe ; but there was very little, if 
any, evidence of immunity from cold nights and cold winds 
in winter. There were Bengal, monthly, and common 
white Roses, but few hybrids or Teas, Delphiniums, Holly- 
hocks, Verbenas, Phlox, Pelargoniums, Aquilegia, Lilies, 
Carnations, Thlaspi, Sweet William, but no Lantanas, 
Abutilons, Daturas, Wigandias, and winter Salvias. These 
gardens, however, must be nearly as naked in winter as our 
own, or more so, as the trees grown axe nearly all 
deciduous, meant for summer shade. Clearly, the inhabi- 
tants of these regions accept the wdnter as winter, and 
have no idea of deceiving the eye, no wish to escape from 
its influence on the landscape by planting evergreens. The 
very summer-like look even of the Genoese Riviera is 
owing to the fact that the complete protection from 
northerly winds admits of a southern evergreen vegetation 
— Olive, Lemon, Orange trees — which exists all but alone. 

There was much to see, much to enjoy in these two, 
t 2 



276 SPAIN. 

great cities, but T must leave the description of their 
charms to pleasure tourists. My business was merely 
to find out by actual observation, by the analysis of the 
vegetation, how far they are fit to be selected as a winter 
residence by confirmed invalids. Viewed in this light, 
the verdict, without any hesitation, is unfavourable. For 
persons slightly out of health, who wish to muse away a 
winter in a southern land, in the midst of the memories of 
former days, and who are disposed to select as the object of 
their studies and meditations the Moors and Saracens 
of Old Spain, their monuments, their habits and customs, 
which survive to this day, Cordova or Seville will do very 
well, and will reward the fatigues of the journey. There is 
immunity from actual cold weather, much sunshine, and 
the novelty of Spanish life and ways, in addition to the 
glamour of the past. 

The real invalid, however, intent on finding the best 
winter climate he can, in order to escape from severe suf- 
fering, or to save life, can do much better. All the dis- 
advantages enumerated as pertaining to Valencia and 
Murcia, are equally rife at Seville. The streets are narrow, 
the hotels are all in the centre of the town, the weather 
must be often cool, not to say cold, and a considerable 
amount of rain falls in the course of the winter, owing 
to proximity to the Atlantic. Both Cordova and Seville 
are in the plainlike valley of the Guadalquivir, which 
throws itself into the stormy Atlantic Ocean a little to 
the south-west. 

None of the towns of the south or Moorish region of 
Spain present any grandeur, anything worthy of notice in 
an architectural point of view, with the exception of their 
cathedrals. That of Cordova is a magnificent Moorish 
mosque, still presenting eleven hundred Saracenic columns, 
although two hundred were destroyed, with very bad taste, 
under Charles V., to make way for a Gothic addition, a nave, 
very grand in its proportions, but sadly out of harmony 
with the mosque to which it was dovetailed. The Seville 
cathedral is one of the most magnificent monuments 
of Gothic architecture that I have ever seen, from the 
immense height of the columns and of the roof which they 



THE CORDOVA AND SEVILLE CATHEDRALS. 277 

support. The Alcazar, or the remains of the Moorish 
Palace, is worthy of all praise and admiration. 

The towns themselves, on the contrary, are mean in the 
extreme. They are composed of small, whitewashed, two- 
storied houses, enclosed in tortuous streets from ten to 
fifteen feet wide. Most of these streets are quite inaccessible 
to a carriage, and in those that are so used, two carriages 
can only pass each other at foot's-pace. 

Owing to the diminutive size of the dwelling-houses, 
and to the narrowness and insignificance of the streets, the 
grandeur and stateliness of the Seville cathedral, produced, 
as did that of Murcia, a peculiar impression on my mind. 
It would seem as if the town, with its human inhabitants, 
had been nothing, whilst religion and the church had been 
everything, towering as the latter does immeasurably above 
humanity. No doubt this was the impression meant to be 
conveyed, and who would do otherwise than acknowledge, 
with humility and reverence, the correctness of the anti- 
thesis, had the religion of those who created these magnifi- 
cent temples cast a truly Christian mantle over the country. 
Unfortunately, it was not so at Seville. Whilst gazing 
on the grand cathedral it is impossible not to recollect the 
gloomy fanaticism that reigned in its walls for centuries, 
under the cloak of religion. The horrible tyranny of the 
Inquisition, the terrible human sacrifices that bloodthirsty 
institution periodically demanded, with its frequent " auto- 
da-fe," and its dungeons filled with victims during centuries 
of oppression, all rose bodily before me. In no part of Spain 
were greater horrors perpetrated under the mask of religion. 
This gloomy religious tyranny dwarfed the intellect of the 
Spanish nation, destroyed its national prosperity, and made 
it what it is at present, a mere shadow of the past. Now 
that these shackles have been cast off for ever, now that 
mental as well as political freedom has been attained, we 
may hope that a glorious future is opening out for Spain as 
well as for Italy. As Wordsworth truly says in the verses 
quoted at the head of this chapter, there are Fo rusts of 
men, good and true, yet to be found in Spain. The nation 
is sound at the core, and, once freed from the trammels of 
superstition, ignorance, and bad government, will no doubt 



278 spain. 

rise in the scale of humanity, and again assume its rank 
among nations, but time is required. 

The Spaniards are a race of mountaineers, hardy, sober, 
abstemious, enduring of fatigue, kind, and cheerful. They 
have only been too true to their selfish, fanatical rulers, 
who have constantly led them to death in a bad cause, have 
constantly traded on their simple-minded devotion and affec- 
tion to religion and to the king. By supporting a corrupt 
court for many years, the clergy have lost their hold on the 
respect of the nation, and have fallen with the court, and 
that most deservedly. 

Nearly all the best houses are built on the Moorish 
model, as at Algiers. They have a central court or 
garden, which is often adorned by a fountain as well 
as by flowers. The life of the family is centred in and 
around this court, or interior garden. In summer, an 
awning is drawn over from above, and it becomes the 
general sitting-room during the hot weather. 

We received the greatest kindness and civility from all 
classes of Spaniards, both in the towns and on the roads. 
All we met seemed to vie with each other to help us on. 
We were more especially struck with this cordial civility 
in Seville. Owing to the tortuous nondescript character of 
the streets, we generally lost our way when we went out 
without an interpreter, and all but invariably the first person 
of whom we asked the road volunteered to take us home. 
On one afternoon, I and my friends, three in number, all 
went out separately ; we all four lost our way, and we were 
all four brought back to the hotel by four different persons, 
the first to whom we appealed. 

MALAGA. 

From Seville I took the railway to Malaga. The line 
passes in a south-easterly direction across some hilly fertile 
plains, then ascending through a mountainous district, 
pierces the Sierra Nevada by a series of deep cuttings and 
tunnels. On emerging, it descends rapidly into a cultivated 
plain, at the edge of which, on the southern coast of Spain, 
is Malaga. 

I was much disappointed with much vaunted Malaga. 



MALAGA. 279 

It is a close, confined Spanish commercial seaport, with 
110,000 inhabitants packed into a very small area, the 
streets being from five to ten feet wide only. The port is 
dirty, the shore contaminated with all kinds of filth, both 
inside the town and for some distance from it. The hotels 
are gloomy and dingy, and situated on a miserable promenade 
— the only one in the town. This, the Alameda, is merely 
300 yards long by forty broad, planted with double rows 
of shabby deciduous trees, Elm, Acacia, Sophora Japonica, 
Melia Azedarach and small Planes, so that in winter it must 
be quite naked. There are some noseless busts, and any 
number of mendicants and gutter children. This is the 
resort, the solace, of the poor invalids condemned for their 
sins to winter here. 

The only real garden within three miles of the town is the 
English cemetery,, on a burnt-up hill-side, where even the 
Pelargoniums had scarcely any foliage, owing to the long 
drought, merely a few terminal leaves and flowers. Here 
at last there really was the evidence of a very mild southern 
winter, such as we have at Mentone, in the presence of 
Lantana, Bougainvillea, Carouba, Schinus Mulli, Heliotrope, 
Aloe. But the evidence of exceptional winter mildness was 
still more marked in a garden belonging to an American 
merchant, about three miles from the town, at the base of 
the mountains which, rising due north behind Malaga to 
a height of 3000 feet, protect it thoroughly from northerly 
winds. Here I found, in full flower, Euphorbia jacquini- 
nora, Russelia juncea, Lantanas, Abutilons, Habrothamnus, 
Salvia Horminum, gesnerseflora, Bouvardia flava, Erythrina 
crista galli (Coral tree), Gaillardia, Pittospermum ; indeed, 
the same winter flowers and vegetation as at Mentone. I 
may add that Malaga is the only place in Algeria or Spain 
where I found the same evidence of winter mildness or 
entire immunity from frost as on the Genoese Riviera from 
Nice to San Remo. The winter climate of Malaga must 
present the same exceptional mildness, but the social and 
sanitary conditions are vile, so bad as entirely to neutralize 
the climate advantages ; unless one could have the country 
house I saw, or a similar one, miles from the town, at the 
base of the ravine or gorge by which Malaga is reached by 



280 SPAIN. 

rail . In descending through this valley, I saw very fine 
Orange trees. 

Such being the case, the climate of Malaga beino*. as 
proved by its vegetation, exceptionally mild and dry, with- 
out losing the bracing character that pertains to all " dry" 
European climates in winter, it would seem that the en- 
comiums conferred upon it by many writers are justified. 
And so they would be. if Malaga were' a healthy city, or 
were there healthy suburban residences or hotels, in good, 
situations, in which invalids could reside. 

Unfortunately, however, none of these conditions are 
realized. The city is situated on a sandy plain on a dead 
level, its streets are even narrower and closer than those of 
Seville or Valencia, and its sanitary condition is decidedly 
worse. It may be thought that a mere flying visit does 
not entitle me to speak so authoritatively on the subject, so 
I will quote other data. 

There have been five epidemics of cholera at Malaga since 
1832, when it first appeared in Europe, and none of the 
densest and most unhealthy centres of European population 
have been more afflicted. It is a well-known fact that 
cholera has constantly chosen the most populated and most 
unhealthy cities in which to exercise its ravages, and the 
fact of five epidemics of cholera having occurred in any 
locality during the thirty-seven years that have elapsed 
since it first appeared in Europe must be fatal to a repu- 
tation for salubrity. 

I would, also, refer my readers to the most recent writer 
on the climate of Malaga, Dr. More Madden, in his pam- 
phlet entitled (( The Climate of Malaga in the Treatment 
of Chronic Pulmonary Disease. Dublin, 1865." At 
page 18 Dr. Madden says very graphically and ex- 
plicitly : — 

sl The hygienic condition of Malaga is as defective as it 
can well be. In a great many of the houses there is no 
provision for sewage of any kind; and even in the more 
civilized part of the city, in the hotels on the Alameda, the 
drainage is very bad indeed. The main sewers, which 
run under the principal streets, are choked up by the de- 
composing accumulation of years, and being provided with 



THE UNHEALTHINESS OF MALAGA. 281 

immense square openings, through which the dirt and 
rubbish are thrown into them, in the centre of the streets, 
the mephitic gases evolved below freely escape into the 
atmosphere of the narrow lanes of the city. The bed of the 
Guadalmedina is really the main sewer of Malaga ; and as 
for nearly ten months annually it is little more than a wide 
dry bed of gravel, being dependent on the torrents in winter 
for its purification, the odour it exhales in warm weather 
renders a residence near it as disagreeable as it is un- 
healthy. 

M The connexion between epidemic disease and bad sewage 
is, I think, very well illustrated in Malaga, which has at all 
times been remarkable for the prevalence of zymotic disease. 
I have collected from the older Spanish writers notices of 
no less than twenty-two epidemic pestilences, some of which 
almost depopulated the city, between 1493 and 1804. The 
earlier of these seem to have been epidemics of genuine 
Oriental plague, and the latter generally assumed the form 
of yellow fever. Of late years, since 1834, these pestilences 
have not appeared, but their place has been taken by Asiatic 
cholera, which has several times ravaged the town." 

The above most inviting description of Malaga is written 
by the author of a recent work on climate, who, after tra- 
velling all over Europe to find the best winter sanitarium 
for the consumptive, has fixed on this most salubrious town 
as the sought-for Eldorado. So that this chosen European 
habitat, in former and present times, of the plague, yellow 
fever and cholera, is to be selected to restore the health of 
our poor countrymen and women, already debilitated by 
disease, constitutionally broken down, and a prey to an 
organic malady. 

Surely, as I have repeatedly stated, it is mere wanton 
trifling with human life to send such sufferers, with a view 
to the recovery of their health, to winter in large, unhealthy 
southern towns like Rome, Naples, and Malaga, foci of 
malaria and of epidemic and zymotic diseases. Does not 
"the simplest common sense tell us that invalids, with the 
seeds of death in them, should not be located for months 
in the centre of towns where even the healthy cannot live, 
and die annually at the late of thirty or more in the 



282 spain. 

thousand ? Singularly enough, I believe I am the first, 
and as yet the only writer on climate, who has recognised 
and forcibly insisted on the all-important and self-evident 
fact that consumptive patients should reside, winter and 
summer, in England or abroad, where they can breathe 
pure air night and day — that is, in the country, in healthy 
villages, in the healthy outskirts of towns. Their breathing 
pure air is of infinitely more importance than a few degrees 
of temperature more or less, or a little more or less protec- 
tion from this or that wind. A fact so consonant with 
modern physiology and pathology has only to be brought 
forward to be universally acknowledged, and the time is 
near when medical men will wonder how they could ever 
think of cooping up their patients in unhealthy southern 
towns for the sake of warmth, which they do not get. 
Better far that they should stay at home than purchase 
exemption from the cold of our climates by exposure to 
hygienic conditions which produce, as a matter of course, in 
successive generations, plague, yellow fever, and cholera. 

Guided by what I saw myself, and by what Dr. More 
Madden and others tell us, as above, I consider I am per- 
fectly warranted in advising the medical profession to strike 
Malaga out of the list of winter resorts for invalids for the 
present, notwithstanding its really good climate. When 
hotels and villas, combining the requirements of English 
invalids, have been built some miles out of the town, at the 
base of the hills, where the wealthy Malaga merchants have 
established their country residences, and when the state of 
the country renders it safe to inhabit them, then, and then 
only, will it be prudent for invalids to winter at Malaga. 



MALAGA TO GRANADA. 

We started for Granada at six o'clock in the morning, 
in a kind of one-bodied omnibus stage drawn b}' eight 
mules, and at once struck the mountain to the north-east 
at the foot of which Malaga is situated. The road wound 
up the south sides of the mountain for three hours, giving 
us a splendid view of the city, which seemed to have 



MALAGA TO GRAXADA. 283 

crouched itself around the large cathedral, on one side of a 
triangular plain, bounded by mountains and the sea. 

These mountains are schistic in formation, friable, and 
water- worn into innumerable sugar-loaf cones, the sides of 
which are everywhere planted with Vines. The Tines are 
cut down to the stumps annually, and at the time of my 
visit (May 14) were just sprouting, so that the hill-sides, at 
a distance, seemed covered with Grass. The Vine-clad hills 
spoke of a rich wine country. The best raisins also come 
from Malaga, and are prepared from a muscatel grape which 
is grown on these mountain slopes. London alone receives 
12,000 tons yearly. As we ascended, the Chamserops 
humilis, the Genista, Cytisus, and Mountain Lavender, 
showed themselves as usual. We left the thermometer 
72° at night, 78° in the day, at Malaga, to find it three 
hours later, at an elevation of 3000 feet, only 58° at nine 
o } clock, with a cold wind. Ilex, Cork Oak, cereals, and 
Vines occupied the hill-sides, until we descended to lime- 
stone rocks and soil, where the Olive, Fig, Carouba, Mul- 
beny, reappeared, with luxuriant ground crops, and near 
water Lombardy Poplars, White Poplars, and Willows. 
This is the character of the luxuriant irrigated valley 
around Granada, the renowned "Vega,'"' which repeats at 
an elevation of about 2000 feet the fertility of the Murcian 
and Valencian lime valleys. There is more general verdure, 
however, for it really does rain in the province of Granada, 
so that cultivation does not depend entirely on irrigation. 
The eutire country, from the moment the mountains which 
overcap and protect Malaga had been crossed, bore the 
evidence of winter rain. Altitude and proximity to the 
Atlantic clearly controlled other influences. 

The mode of travelling greatly interested us. We had 
a postillion on one of the first mules, a coachman with long 
reins on a high box, and a supplementary driver, called the 
mayoral, sitting at his feet at times, but oftener running 
by the side of the mules, whipping and urging them on. 
The endurance of the young postillion and of this mayoral 
positively amazed us. The former rode all the journey, 
eighty miles ; he was twelve hours in the saddle. The 
latter ran, a great part of the day, by the side of the 



284 



SPAIN. 



mules, lashing them, shooting at them at the top of 
his voice, and often throwing stones with which he filled 
his pockets. This was, no doubt, the way in which 
travelling was carried on all over Spain before the days of 
railways. We thus passed through a deal of pretty moun- 
tain scenery, Vine-clad hills, fertile Olive and Mulberry- 
covered valleys. 



THE ALHA.MBB.A. 




THE COUflT OE LIONS. 



Granada, when I saw it in the middle of May, was very 
lovely with spring verdure. Owing to its altitude, £500 
feet, in the midst of a mountain region, there is no lack of 
moisture; indeed, it rained heavily while I was there. In 
winter, I was told, it is often very cold, snow falls and 



SPANISH TRAVELLING. 285 

it freezes ; whilst in the height of summer it is very hot, 
as are all similar elevations in Spain. Thus Granada 
is only fitted for a spring or autumn residence. In winter 
it is too cold, in summer too warm. The great attraction 
is the Alhambra, the palace of the Moorish caliphs in the 
days of old, still in wonderful preservation. This " archi- 
tectural dream" deserves a week's scrutiny and study. It 
is an earthly realization of the Mahommedan's idea of 
paradise. Surrounded by flowers and houris the sensual 
Mahommedan could here shut out the world and fancy 
that he had really crossed the bridge as sharp as a razor, 
supported by a guardian angel, and had arrived at the 
paradise promised to all good Mussulmans by Mahommed. 
Time was precious, so I was obliged to tear myself away 
from the fascinations of Granada and the Alhambra, and to 
pursue my pilgrimage "homewards." 

GRANADA TO MADRID. 

We left Granada in splendid style, in a grand diligence 
just like the old French three-bodied diligences of former 
days, drawn by a string of twelve handsome mules. We 
had the three attendants, the postillion, the coachman, and 
the mayoral, or supernumerary mule-whipper. The postillion 
rode all day, from four o'clock in the morning until five 
in the afternoon, when we reached the railway at Andujar. 
A Spanish travelling companion told me that before the 
railroad was opened to Andujar the same postillion used to 
ride from Granada to Madrid, two days and a night, and 
sometimes died at the end of the journey. The driver had 
clearly the best of it, for he sat still, merely holding the 
reins and occasionally using his long whip. The mayoral, 
like the postillion, had a hard time, for he was up and 
down every five minutes, and was as often running by the 
side of the mules, shouting at the top of his voice, lashing 
out with a long whip, or throwing stones at them, as 
sitting in his seat at the feet of the driver. These men 
afforded a good illustration of the power and endurance of 
human muscle and vitality in youth under efficient and 
constant training. 



286 SPAIN. 

Until we struck the Guadalquivir valley, a few miles 
before reaching the rail, we were all day in a mountain 
district, between 1500 and 2500 feet above the sea. Here 
it clearly rains in winter, and the scenery was very pic- 
turesque and lovely. The rocks were generally secondary, 
cretaceous, with here and there schistic deposits from the 
higher primary mountains. In the lower valleys we found 
the Olive, Mulberry, Poplar, Willow, in the higher schistic 
regions, the Cork Oak, the Ilex, sometimes grand trees, 
with the Broom and similar shrubs. The Hawthorn was 
very common on the roadside, and being in flower gave 
quite an English look to the road. 

We took the railway at six for Madrid, but I was de- 
termined not to spend a night on the road, such a course 
being altogether opposed to my travelling principles. I 
was told that there was no bearable place where I could 
find accommodation for the night to break the journey, 
but I determined to run any risk, and stopped at 10.30, at 
Val de Penas, a little town, the centre of a- well known 
wine district. I and a friend, who was willing to try the 
adventure, were deposited at the station, half a mile from 
the town. I managed to make the station-master under- 
stand that we wanted beds, and he sent a porter off with 
us. In a few minutes we reached Val de Penas, an assem- 
blage of one or two-storeyed, whitewashed houses, in wide, 
clean, regular streets at right angles to each other. We 
knocked at a small but respectable dwelling-house, the 
inmates of which had retired to rest, and after some demur 
were admitted, and shown into a " Moorish" quadrangular 
courtyard, with an arcade all round. A bustling, good- 
natured woman ushered us into a nice clean room, opening 
on this arcade, where we found two decent beds, and after 
the hard day's journey from Granada, we soon found 
oblivion in slumber. 

We had not to leave Val de Penas until one o' clock, so 
did not rise very early. On appearing we found our lively 
and obliging hostess busily employed combing the long 
black tresses of a dark-eyed grown-up daughter, who was 
sitting on a chair in the courtyard. This performance 
concluded, with sundry amiable nods and smiles from 



A XIGHT AT VAL DE PEXAS. 287 

mother and daughter, we contrived, partly by signs, 
to make known our wants for breakfast, which were 
attended to. The repast was a very pleasant one, and 
partaken with a certain degree of state under the arcade, 
for the best crockery, evidently treasured cariosities, was 
brought out for the occasion. By this time we had found 
out that we were not in a " Posada," but guests of the 
blacksmith of the village. The station-master had rightly 
concluded that we should be better treated there than at 
the inns, which we subsequently saw, and which did not 
look very tempting. Whilst we were breakfasting our 
hosts sat down near us, and what with signs, smiles, ges- 
tures, and the few words of Spanish we could muster we 
managed to keep up an animated conversation. TVe were 
evidently even more a subject of curiosity to them than 
they were to us. 

After breakfast we made a perambulation in the town, 
and were everywhere received with great cordiality and 
civility. The population bore stamped on their features 
good nature, sobriety, hard work, and health. They 
clearly belong to the simple-minded race to which I have 
alluded, to the race that has for centuries shed its blood 
like water to defend superstition, naively thinking it was 
supporting religion, and to protect a corrupt race of kings 
and nobles, under the impression that it was performing a 
sacred duty to its native country. Such a race, once 
educated, emancipated from the trammels of superstition 
and of fealty to corrupt rulers, who have forfeited every 
claim to respect and support, is sure, as I have said, again 
to raise the name of Spain to a high rank in the family of 
nations. 

Amongst other houses that we visited was a large wine 
exporter's premises. The business was carried on in a 
spacious quadrangular courtyard of the usual character sur- 
rounded by buildings. In addition to vats containing 
wine, there were an immense number of pigskins, some 
filled with wine and doing duty for casks, others in the 
various stages of preparation for that purpose. The skins 
are very artistically pulled off the animal, so as only to 
leave two good sized holes, one at the neck the other at the 



288 spain. 

tail, and four small ones at the feet. The larger holes are 
pieced with pieces of skin ; the smaller are sewn tightly, so 
that no escape of the wine is possible. Previously to this 
being done the bristles are scraped off and the skins sub- 
mitted to some softening process ; we saw hundreds thus 
preparing for use. At one o'clock we regained the train, 
mightily pleased with this little insight into Spanish village 
life, and grateful for the cordiality of our reception by all 
with whom we had come in contact. 



MAD1UD. 

Madrid is not like any other city that I saw in Spain. 
In its modern part, at least, it resembles a portion of Paris 
or of Bordeaux. The houses are tall, many-windowed 
French houses, and the streets are tolerably wide Parisian 
streets. The most peculiar feature about Madrid is its 
situation in a plain 2700 feet above the sea, ten miles from 
the southern base of the Guadarrama chain of mountains. 
The mere altitude makes it cold even in the latitude of 40° 
in winter, and the situation at some distance from the foot 
of high mountains covered with snow from autumn to 
spring, exposes it to dry, piercing down draughts and 
winds from the north. These meteorological conditions 
reiider the inhabitants liable to acute inflammatory affec- 
tions of the chest, which are very common, severe, and 
fatal. In the summer the elevation does not preserve 
Madrid in this latitude from extreme heat. It is then. as 
fiercely dry and hot as it is dry and cold in winter. When 
I was there, May 20, the temperature was cool and agree- 
able, and the weather very pleasant. This I was told is 
generally the case in spring and autumn. 

There is much to see at and near Madrid, but as I had 
only a few days to dispose of, after examining the magnifi- 
cent picture galleries, I turned my attention to my usual 
study, vegetation as illustrating climate. 

It is most interesting to observe at Madrid, on an ex- 
tensive scale, how elevation neutralizes latitude. Judging 
from the vegetation, the winter and spring must be nearly 
as cold as they are in England, although the summers are 



VEGETATION AT MADRID. 289 

much hotter. When I was there, May 18, there were but 
few spring flowers in the public gardens, and the planting 
out of Geraniums, Heliotropes, Verbenas, had but just been 
completed. There were Stocks, Pansies, Delphinium, Sweet 
"William, Aquilegia, Eschscholtzia, Silene, Antirrhinum 
Arabis, in flower or coming into flower. The deciduous 
trees had just made their new leaves; there were but few 
conifers or evergreens. I found the names of several orna- 
mental trees which I had seen in other parts of Spain with- 
out being able to obtain their designation. The following 
were growing as large trees : — Cercis siliquastrum, Ailantus 
glandulosa, Celtis australis, Pinus maritima, P. Halepensis, 
Robinia pseudo-Acacia, very commonly used all over Spain 
as a town tree, no doubt from its doing well with little 
water. The same may be said of the Sophora Japonica and 
of the Melia Azedarach, Celtis occidentalis, Tilia inter- 
media, Gleditschia triacanthos, Negundo fraxinifolium, 
Broussonetia papyrifera, Acer pseudo-Plantanus, Acacia 
Earnesiana, Prosopis siliquastrum, Platanus occidentalis, 
Duvaua dependens, Gymnocladus Canadensis, Robinia 
umbraculifera, Cedrus Libani, Populus canacens, Acer 
campestre, Cupressus horizontalis. The soil at Madrid is 
partly siliceous, the great mountains which rise to the 
north to a height of 5000 or 6000 feet being- granitic. 

The railway from Madrid to the northern frontier ascends 
to a height of nearly 6000 feet, into an Alpine country 
thickly wooded with Conifers and Oaks. The latter were 
then beginning (the 20th of May) to send forth their leaves. 
It is the north winds from these snow-covered mountains 
that contribute so much to embitter the climate of Madrid. 
On their northern slopes the mountains are, for a great dis- 
tance, barren and treeless. 

True to the principle not to travel at night, I stopped at 
Valladolid and at Burgos to break the journey, and found 
both these cities worth visiting. They are much less 
Spanish than the towns south of the Guadarrama chain. 
The streets are tolerably wide, whilst the houses reach 
three storeys, and are not all whitewashed. Altogether 
there is a northern character about them, explained by the 
elevation, which is considerable, and by the consequent 

u 



290 spaix. 

coldness of the winter temperature. In Valladolid I saw 
the house in which Christopher Columhus died, a memorable 
monument ; and also the house and room in which Michael 
Cervantes wrote Don Quixote. I sat for some minutes at 
the very window from which he must have daily looked 
when composing his renowned work. At Burgos the great 
sight is the cathedral, a truly magnificent structure, quite 
worthy of twenty-four hours' delay on the part of the 
passing traveller. 

After leaving Burgos we rapidly approached the Pyrenees 
and their spurs, passing through the Basque province. Here 
we lost sight of the peculiar features of central and eastern 
Spain as a rainless, treeless country with warm shores and 
cold high central plains. Trees, forests, pastures made their 
appearance, as also the outward evidence of thoughtful, 
skilful cultivation. It was clear that we were approaching 
the shores of the Atlantic, and the moist climate of the 
western coast of Europe. St. Sebastian was reached, then 
the French frontier, and a few minutes later Biarritz. 



CLIMATE AND MEDICAL CONCLUSIONS. 

The medical conclusions at which I have arrived, respect- 
ing the climate of Spain, have been recorded as I have 
progressed in the narration of my tour, so I have now 
merely to recapitulate. 

The health regions of Spain are confined to the eastern 
and south-eastern coasts, at the foot of the central table- 
land. Owing to the south and north-westerly winds having 
their moisture precipitated by the mountains of the western 
and central regions of Spain, and owing to the north-easterly 
winds being pulled down to Algeria by the Desert of Sahara, 
the eastern coast of Spain is probably the driest region of 
Europe, drier even than the Genoese Riviera. 

This eastern coast of Spain is also one of the mildest 
winter regions of Europe, although with the exception of 
Malaga, and its vicinity, probably not quite so mild, not 
quite so free from slight winter frosts, as the more pro- 
tected regions of the Genoese undercliff. 



CLIMATE AND MEDICAL CONCLUSIONS. 291 

Such being the case, all that I have stated in the medical 
chapter on the Riviera equally applies to these regions 
of Spain. Its climate must be equally beneficial in all cases 
requiring dry, mild, bracing, sunny, stimulating winter 
weather. 




THE ALHAMBEA. 



TJ 2 



CHAPTER X. 

CO£FU— THE IONIAN ISLANDS— GREECE — THE ARCHI- 
PELAGO—CONSTANTINOPLE—THE DANUBE. 

" ? Tis Greece, but living Greece no more ! 
So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, 
We start, for soul is wanting there. 
* * * # # 

Fair clime, where every season smiles" 
Benignant o'er these blessed isles, 
There mildly dimpling, Ocean's cheek 
Beflects the tints of many a peak 
Canght by the laughing tides that lave 
These Edens of the eastern wave." 

Byron— The Giaour. 

One of the most enjoyable modes of returning home after a 
winter spent in Italy is by the route described at the head 
of this chapter. I had long wished to take this journey, 
not only for pleasure,, but also to study the spring vegeta- 
tion and the climate of the north shore of the Mediterranean 
east of Italy. At last the long-contemplated plan became 
feasible, and in the evening of April 27th, 1872, I started 
from Brindisi on an Austrian Lloyd steamer for Corfu. 

The weather was fine, the sea calm, and the vessel large 
and commodious. As soon as the lights of Brindisi began 
to pale on the horizon I retired, passed a very comfortable 
night, and next morning by six was on deck, anxious to 
ascertain the state of things. We had crossed the mouth 
of the Adriatic in the night, and were running a south- 
easterly course, a few miles only from the shore of Albania, 
at the foot of precipitous limestone mountains, ap- 
parently from 4000 to 6000 feet high. At the higher 
elevations there were still patches of snow glistening in the 



THE VOYAGE TO CORFU. 293 

sun, and creating rivulets that trickled down the mountain, 
to lose themselves in the sea. 

The sun was shining brightly on the bold irregular 
precipitous mountains, bringing into clear relief their pro- 
jections and recesses. To the eye these appeared naked, 
but on examination with a glass it became evident that 
they were covered with brushwood, probably Kosemary, 
Thyme, Lentiscus, Juniper, and Myrtle. When the moun- 
.tains became less precipitous, the folds, depressions, ravines, 
were covered with patches of Conifers, principally the Pinus 
Halepensis or Aleppo Pine, I was subsequently informed. 

Curiosity as to our whereabouts thus gratified, my eyes 
turned instinctively to my fellow passengers, who, like 
myself, had abandoned their berths and were leaning over 
the side of the vessel, looking landwards, entranced by the 
beauty of the scenery, by the glorious harmonies of the 
sea, the mountains, and the sky, lit up by southern sun- 
shine. They were only seven, a Greek gentleman on his 
way to Athens, whose acquaintance I had made at Brindisi, 
and an English gentleman and family bound for Con- 
stantinople, via Corfu, Athens, and Smyrna. 

My Greek friend had passed a day with me at the com- 
modious Brindisi Hotel. He was partner in a large 
London house, and had spent nearly twenty years in the 
East without revisiting Europe. He had not seen his 
native country for a much longer period, and was in a 
feverish state of patriotic impatience to revisit once more 
Athens, where he was born, and the haunts of his youth. 
He had made a handsome fortune in the East, he told me, 
and meant to buy land, to invest capital, and to help to 
regenerate Greece. Indeed, he was full of day-dreams for 
the prosperity and glory of his beloved country. He had 
with him his "son," a dear little boy of five, whom be 
wished to introduce to the land of his forefathers. He had 
taken the child from his mamma's lap, promising that he 
and a trusty man-servant would do all required. The duties 
most audaciously undertaken by the father and his valet 
were most serupulously performed, but the child was more 
than a match for the two, and was often the cause of a degree 
of perplexity and of bewilderment, amusing to witness. 



294 CORFU AND THE IONIAN ISLANDS. 

The English gentleman was a good illustration of the 
educated English paterfamilias. He was a University man, 
a good classical scholar, an ex-M.P., and had travelled a 
deal in his youth. Being desirous to show his family a 
little of the world, he told me he had just started with his 
wife, son, daughter, and niece, an ample supply of Murrays' 
and introductions to our Ministers and Consuls, for a two 
months' Eastern tour. We travelled side by side until I 
left Constantinople, and the companionship of this family 
proved most agreeable, taking away all feeling of loneliness. 

As we progressed the Albanian mountains became less 
precipitous, small plains appeared near their base, in which 
large Olive trees were growing, and their presence was 
soon followed by the appearance of a village or town — 
Bucintro. In all civilized parts of the world the habita- 
tions of man make their appearance simultaneously with 
the evidences of fertility ; with the appearance of land that 
will produce what he lives upon, animal or vegetable. The 
civilization, however, of these Albanian villages, lost in the 
folds of their wild mountains, would appear to be at rather 
a low ebb, if, at least, the captain of our steamer is to be 
relied on. In reply to a question as to the people who in- 
habited them, he exclaimed, " E una razza maledetta," 
adding that it would be an evil hour for us were our vessel 
wrecked on that coast ! Perhaps the Albanian villagers 
were belied, and were better than their reputation. 

When opposite Bucintro, on turning round, we saw 
rising out of the sea, to the south-west, a rocky barren 
island about six miles in circumference, inhabited by a few 
fishermen only, the island of Fano. It is fifty miles from 
the nearest point of the Italian coast, Otranto, and twelve 
from the island of Corfu. The latter also appeared on the 
south horizon, apparently a continuation of and a pro- 
jection from the Albanian mountain land. Our steamer 
directed its course to the angle of junction, and we soon 
discovered and entered a channel only two miles wide, 
which separates the northern extremity of Corfu from the 
Albanian coast. The channel soon widens and forms a 
lake-like expanse, exquisitely lovely, and eight miles in 
width, opposite the town of Corfu. This lake-like expan- 



THE TOWN OF CORFU. 295 

sion of the channel between the island and the mainland 
may be compared to fifty Loch Lomonds, surrounded by 
fifty Ben Lomonds. We breakfasted as comfortably as 
on the Scotch loch steamer, whilst passing rapidly over 
the blue waters, land-locked and surrounded by beautiful 
mountains, arriving at eleven in the harbour of Corfu. 

Corfu is a crescent-shaped island, of limestone formation, 
latitude 39° 30', lying all but north and south, and separated 
from the mainland by a channel of variable width, two 
miles at its northern outlet, twelve in the centre, six at 
the southern outlet. The width of the island, which is 
mountainous, varies from twenty miles in the north to 
three or four in the south. The town of Corfu is situated 
on the eastern shore, at about its centre, facing the 
Albanian coast and mountains. It is composed of the 
citadel, the town, and the suburbs. The citadel occupies 
the summit of a small plain, about two hundred feet above 
the sea. It comprises the principal fortifications, including 
two castles, the former English governor's palace, and a 
wide esplanade, now a public garden. The citadel over- 
looks the harbour and the town, the narrow streets of the 
latter occupying the sloping hill-sides between it and the sea. 

The town of Corfu is singularly interesting to the 
northern traveller, more so than any other town I saw in 
Greece, not excepting Athens. The picturesque, bright- 
coloured Grecian and Albanian costumes are very numerous 
— all but universal — meeting you at every turn; and every 
transaction of life is carried on in the Greek language. 
The names of the streets, the names and the occupations 
of the shopkeepers, the Government judicial, and trading 
announcements and advertisements are all in Greek. The 
years passed at school and college revert to the mind, with 
Thucydides and Sophocles, and all the memories of that 
very hard-working period of life; I was enchanted, and 
rambled about hour after hour. I kept to my Greek friend 
and his boy, following them to a very good hotel over- 
looking the esplanade and the citadel, where we were per- 
fectly comfortable. I found him an agreeable companion, 
and we drove about the island together, he with a view to 
investments, I intent on the study of vegetation. 



296 CORFU AND THE IONIAN ISLANDS. 

Corfu, at the time I saw it, the end of April, is certainly 
one of the loveliest spots on the face of the earth. An- 
chored out at sea, from six to twelve miles distant from the 
mainland, it has ever before it the magnificent range of 
limestone mountains that skirts the Albanian coast, wooded 
to the sea at their base, bold, naked, jagged, precipitous in 
their upper elevation. The island is merely the summit of 
a submarine mountain range, rising and falling, furrowed 
by valleys, ravines, depressions, narrowing and widening, 
presenting every possible inequality of surface from its 
highest peak (1900 tiet) to the sea which surrounds it. 

Owing to the lon^ occupation of the Ionian islands by 
the English, and to Corfu having been the centre of 
Government, it has been polished, civilized, up to our 
standard, like Malta. The influence of former days is still 
felt, although our protectorate has come to an end, and it 
has now become a part of the kingdom of Greece. The 
principal hotels are clean and comfortable, the roads all 
over the island are as good as in England, and good 
carriages with civil drivers are to be had without trouble. 
I fell it quite a luxury to drive about on good roads, in a 
comfortable carriage, in the midst of the familiar Mediter- 
ranean vegetation, growing with exuberant fertility, warmed 
by the southern sun, and generally in view of the blue sea 
waves ; for the sea is seldom lost sight of for long together, 
owing to the narrowness of the island. 

It is only, however, in the numerous depressions, valleys, 
ravines that this exuberant fertility shows itself. The 
heights and elevations accessible to northern winds from 
the continent are either naked or clothed with Pines, the 
Maritime and Aleppo Pines principally. This fact gives 
the key to the climate of Corfu. On the same line of 
latitude (39°) as the south of Italy, the centre of Sardinia, 
Majorca, Valencia, its vegetation is equally southern — 
equally or even more luxuriant — wherever there is protection 
from the continental or north winds. These winds fall 
upon Corfu owing to its being eight or ten miles out at 
sea, thus distant from the protection which the Albanian 
mountains give to the regions at their base. 

In all such sheltered regions I found (April 28th) in the 



VEGETATION OE CORFU. 297 

gardens and elsewhere the vegetables, flowers, and fruits 
which appear at the end of June in England — Peas, Broad 
Beans, Strawberries, Roses of all sorts, in full flower, 
Banksia, Bengal, Tea, hybrid ; Delphinium, Collinsia, 
Antirrhinum, Carnation, Pink. The Acacia and Horse 
Chestnut trees were going out of blossom, as were all 
spring flowers. The Mulberry and deciduous Oaks were 
in full leaf. The Ailantus gl andulosa, which is extensively 
grown, had only just begun to form its terminal branches 
and leaves. The Orange trees were in blossom, and some 
had still on them large, well-formed fruit. They were 
healthy and large, but only found in the deepest valleys, in 
the most sheltered localities ; I saw but few Lemon trees. 
One day I drove over to a village called Benitza, seven 
miles from Corfu, through a most smiling and picturesque 
country, through villages full of gaily-dressed, apparently 
well-to-do peasants. It was Sunday, and they were all in 
the streets in their holiday costume — a very pretty sight. 
In these southern villages on fete days the people spend 
the day together out of doors, at the entrance of their 
houses, in the squares, in the streets, round the fountains. 
The girls shyly assemble and herd in bevies or flocks, 
whilst the young men on their side do the same, both 
eyeing each other at a distance. 

Benitza contains, I was told, the largest Orange grove 
in the island. The village and the Orange orchard, which 
latter only occupies a few acres, are situated in a smiling 
valley, sheltered on every side except on the south-east, 
where it reaches the sea. Even here a thick screen of 
Cypress trees had been planted, in order to form a protec- 
tion against the south-east wind. Notwithstanding the 
shelter they afforded, the Orange trees nearest to the sea 
were not healthy, many of their terminal branches being 
leafless and dead. 

Thus the vegetation of Corfu indicates a climate and 
soil similar in their main features to that of the coast line 
of the western Riviera in its more sheltered regions. But 
this similarity only exists in the protected depressions and 
valleys where there is clearly immunity from severe winter 
frosts, with intense and continued summer heat, and 



298 CORFU AND THE IONIAN ISLANDS. 

enough rain to secure fertility. This is indicated by the 
great size and. healthiness of the Olive and Orange trees, 
and by the existence of some good-sized healthy Lemon 
trees in the open air. The latter, however, are so few in 
number, and so limited to thoroughly sheltered localities, 
that it is evident the winter frosts are more severe generally 
than on the Riviera between Nice and San Remo, where, 
as we have seen, they are found in groves or orchards, 
covering the lower sides of the mountains facing the sea, 
and fully exposed to sea south winds. On the other hand, 
the higher regions of Corfu, exposed to the continental 
winds, are too far from the shelter of the Albanian moun- 
tains to be thoroughly protected thereby, and consequently 
present the vegetation found about 2000 feet above the 
sea level on the Genoese Riviera, namely, the Maritime 
and Aleppo Pine, and the usual Mediterranean brushwood 
of lime regions, Rosemary, Thyme, Myrtle, Lentiscus, 
Cystus, Juniper, Globularia, Euphorbia. 

Corfu having been so long under the protectorate of the 
English, its climate, and especially its winter climate, has 
been the subject of much study. Dr. Scoresby Jackson, in 
his medical climatology, from an analysis of the various 
authorities, gives 65° as the annual mean temperature, that 
of Mentone being 60° 80', and the winter mean, Corfu, as 
53°, Mentone being 49°. These means, however, are clearly 
too high, being founded on observations made in rooms and 
verandahs, and show how little reliance can be placed on 
mere thermometrical data, loosely taken, apart from the 
observation of nature. 

Snow appears on the Albanian mountains opposite Corfu 
by the end of November, and remains until the beginning 
of May. Occasionally the summits of St. Salvador, in 
Corfu (1900 feet), are thinly covered with snow for several 
days at a time. North continental winds coming from the 
snow-covered mountains of Albania in winter are dry and 
cold, whilst in summer they are dry and hot, the mountains 
being then heated, baked by the sun. Winds from the 
south coming from the sea are always moist; moist and 
mild in winter, moist and hot in summer. 

It is stated by Dr. Davy that the more frequent winds 



THE CLIMATE OF CORFU. 299 

at Corfu in winter are those from the E., E.S.E., and S.E., 

whilst the summer winds are N., N.N.E., N.E., and E.N.E. 
This statement requires explanation. In winter, the syste- 
mic winds on the north shore of the Mediterranean are 
the north winds. It is they that produce winter; with 
south systemic winds blowing day and night there would 
be no winter, not even in December, January, and February. 
If south winds are observed topredominate at that epoch, any- 
where on the north shore of the Mediterranean, there must 
be some deception, some error of observation, and that error I 
discovered at Mentone. The sea breeze or slight monsoon 
produced during the day in brilliant sunny weather, by the 
heating of the coast line, is mistaken for a south wind. So 
it must have been at Corfu. The air, rarefied by the 
heating of the lower regions of the limestone mountains 
that line the Albanian coast, rises into the upper atmospheric 
regions, and the sea air rushes in to fill the place. This 
wind from the sea is often nothing else but a northerly 
wind that has gone out to sea overhead, from the top of 
the high mountains, and is then pulled back, apparently as 
a south-east or south-west wind. 

The existence of northerly winds in summer is easily 
explained. Cooler, heavier air from the mountains of the 
continent, rushes into the Mediterranean basin at the coast 
line, and near it, to fill the vacuum caused by the heating 
rarefaction, and rising into space of its atmosphere. Corfu 
lying some miles out at sea is within the influence of both 
phenomena. It feels the sea breeze making for land in 
winter as a local south wind, and it also feels in summer 
the winds which have come from the summit of the north 
mountains some ten miles distant. 

According to Dr. Davy, the rainfall is both more 
abundant and more continuous at Corfu than on the 
western Riviera, a fact which is at once explained by its 
insular position and by its distance from the coast. From 
a table constructed by Dr. Davy, on an average of three 
years (1823-25), the number of rainy days in the year are 
103; the average in each month as follows: — January, 
11-6; February, 113 • March, 13; April, 18-6; May, 4 ; 
June, 5; July, 3*3; August, 0'6; September, 6*6; October, 



300 CORFU AND THE IONIAN ISLANDS. 

10-3; November, 10-6; December, 13'3; total, 103-2. 
The remarkable feature in this table is not the amount of 
rain at the autumnal and vernal equinoxes, but its per- 
sistence throughout the winter months, December, January, 
and February. The explanation appears to me, that Corfu, 
being some miles out at sea, is more in the battle-field of 
the north and south winds than the Riviera coast line, and 
probably than the Albanian coast line. Very often in 
winter at Mentone, as I have elsewhere stated, dark clouds 
bank up on the horizon about ten miles from land, and it 
rains, evidently in torrents, although we at the foot of the 
mountains are in sunshine. The cause is a collision between 
cold northerly winds from the land mountains, and warm 
moist air out at sea. It has often occurred to me that an 
island ten miles out at sea on the Riviera coast would have 
many more rainy days in winter than we have, and Corfu 
appears to realize this fact. Although so near the north 
shore of the Mediterranean, the fact of its being out at 
sea no doubt modifies the climate. When looking at the 
beautiful Albanian mountains from Corfu, it struck 
me that the real sheltered health climate would be on 
that coast. On inquiry, I found that I was right in 
my conjectures, and that Orange and Lemon trees grow 
much more luxuriantly at the foot of the Albanian mountains 
than in any of the Ionian islands. 

What with the cold snow winds from the Albanian 
mountains, with the moisture of the southern winds, and 
with the frequent rainfall from collisions between the tw r o, 
it seems that Corfu, lovely as it is, is not a desirable winter 
residence for consumptive and bronchial invalids. Such, at 
least, seems to be the opinion of those who have studied 
and described the climate from actual experience. To those, 
however, who without being absolutely ill, merely want to 
avoid the northern cold, and to find relaxation, in yachting, 
boating, fishing, shooting, driving, riding, walking, bathing, 
in glorious scenery and in a mild climate, with English 
comforts, a winter at Corfu would no doubt be very agree- 
able. To the spring tourist, more especially, Corfu and the 
Ionian islands open out a glorious source of quiet enjoy- 
ment in April and May. Formerly it was very difficult to 



VOYAGE FROM CORFU TO ATHENS. 301 

get to Corfu, and the traveller had to pass several days and 
nights at sea. Now a day's easy journey from Rome by 
rail, or two from Turin or Milan, bring him to Brindisi, 
and one quiet night in a good steamer completes the 
journey to Corfu. I shall best convey my appreciation of 
the beauty of Corfu, by adding that it is one of the few 
spots on the Mediterranean to which I should be glad to 
return any April and May, merely for the enjoyment of 
"physical existence." After May the weather becomes 
too hot to be agreeable. Moreover, malarious fevers appear, 
as in all the islands of the Mediterranean. 



THE VOYAGE FROM CORFU TO ATHENS. 

On the evening of the 30th of April we left Corfu for 
Athens by a small Greek steamer, which performs the voyage 
once a week in forty-eight hours, touching at several islands 
on the way, Paxo, Cephalonia, and Zante, and alighting 
at Patras and Corinth. This is the only steamer that takes 
this route, establishing a weekly communication between 
the islands, and keeping near the coast, and in partial 
shelter all the way. It entails transshipment at the isthmus 
of Corinth, and to avoid this all other steamers go round the 
Morea or Peloponnesus, to accomplish which they have to 
pass out to sea. As in our eyes the transshipment was a 
positive advantage, for it gave us seven miles of terra fir ma 
travelling, we did not hesitate to confide ourselves to the 
Greeks. On taking our places we were much pleased to 
receive a quarto printed page of instructions in modern 
Greek, so very like the old that it was quite easy to make 
it out with a little assistance from local friends. 

The evening was calm and beautiful, and we once more 
enjoyed gliding smoothly along under the lee of the grand 
Albanian mountains, for steaming in the Mediter- 
ranean in calm weather is altogether enjoyable. Night 
gradually came on, the lights of sundry lighthouses 
appeared, and we soon passed the most southern point of 
Corfu. At ten we reached Paxo, an island about fifteen 
miles distant, and here we stopped to take in passengers 



302 CORFU AND THE IONIAN ISLANDS. 

and to land cargo, with, great commotion, Babel of tongue, 
and apparent confusion ; all very picturesque and inte- 
resting. Once more off, we retired for the night. 

We had a stretch of open sea of about a hundred miles 
to make before reaching the channel that separates Cepha- 
lonia from Zante, the most trying part of the voyage. That 
passed, a kind of internal sea is reached, sheltered by these 
two islands, by the Morea and by the mainland. During 
the night a strong wind from the north-west rose, and we 
got a good tossing, but the Greek vessel, although not very 
large and not very clean, proved a good sea boat, and we 
reached the comparatively quiet waters of the sea of Zante 
by noon, the following day, stopping an hour at Cephalonia, 
and the same at Znnte. These stoppages were welcome, 
for, although in an all but land-locked sea, there was a 
deal more motion than was pleasant. Indeed, we learnt 
afterwards at Athens, that a perfect hurricane was blowing 
outside that same day, much to the misery of the pas- 
sengers of a large Austrian Lloyd steamer that left afc the 
same time that we did. 

All this day we were skirting the islands of Cephalonia 
and Zante, generally near enough to the land to be able to 
scrutinize it with or without a glass. The general features 
of the islands appeared everywhere the same, calcareous 
rocks and mountainous elevations, apparently naked, but 
in reality covered with scanty brushwood, with here and 
there patches of Conifers, or groves of Olive trees, according 
to elevation, protection from the north, and nature of 
surface. At each island at which we stopped boats came 
out to the steamer with baskets of oranges and of flowers : 
Roses, Banksias, Teas, hybrid ; Carnations, Stocks, Iris, 
Delphinium, bespeaking summer and fertility in hidden 
valleys, ravines, nooks, corners sheltered from the wind; 
for nothing of the kind was to be seen from the sea, only 
the occasional patches of Conifers and Olive trees in the 
plains, with naked rocks and mountains everywhere. It 
appeared as if, wherever the north winds touch, they 
actually peel the rocks of all tree vegetation. These islands 
appeared to reproduce Corfu, but with less fertility and 
more rocky barrenness. Opuntias and Aloes were seen near 






PA TEAS — ISTHMUS OF CORINTH. 303 

every village or town. According to M. Orphanides of 
Athens, the Aloe vulgare is found wild in Greece, and is 
mentioned by Dioscorides. 

That evening we landed at Patras, at the entrance of the 
Gulf of Lepanto, which presents a background of magnificent 
snow-covered mountains, and remained there two hours, 
much to our satisfaction. It is a miserable little town of 
small houses and shops along the shore, and on each side 
of a long- street at rig-lit angles to the latter. Considering 
that Patras is the centre of the lucrative " currant" trade, 
I was surprised to find no greater evidences of prosperity. 
The night was passed in sleep steaming quietly up the 
Gulf of Lepanto, tranquil as a river, although the wind was 
howling in the mountains that skirt the gulf. At day- 
light we arrived at the Isthmus of Corinth. The town of 
Corinth is now merely represented by a few wretched 
houses, but we were shown the site of the celebrated city 
of Grecian history. Here the passengers left the friendly 
ship and crossed the isthmus in less than an hour, seven 
miles. There is scarcely any rise, and a ship canal could 
be easily made, and I should say without great expense. 
The soil is schistic and covered with a brushwood of 
Lentiscus, Juniper, dwarf Ilex, Asphodel, and Ferula. The 
country was clearly in the possession of brigands, for we 
had an escort of mounted soldiers before and behind the 
carriages, and there were guardhouses and picquets at 
every mile along the road, with scouts between. It 
gave us quite an elevated idea of our own importance, to 
be thus escorted and protected, and we appreciated the fact 
that we really had arrived in the country so pleasantly and 
amusingly described by M. About in his Roi des Montagues, 
The isthmus crossed, we embarked on a smaller steamer, 
and by midday, after passing Salamis, arrived at the 
Pirseus. 

It is worthy of remark that during the last twenty-four 
hours of our voyage, a bitter cold north-west wind — a 
regular mistral as we should call it on the Riviera — had 
been blowing, which obliged us to use all our wraps. This 
cold wind revealed the weak point of the climate of these 
islands, and, as I afterwards learnt of Athens and of Greece 



304 GREECE AND THE ARCHIPELAGO. 

generally : viz., cold winds from the northern regions during 
the first four months of the year, that is, from Christmas to 
May. At Patras there were still large patches of snow on 
the mountains immediately behind the towns with a north- 
west aspect, apparently at an elevation of about 4000 feet. 

ATHENS. 

The Piraeus, where we landed, the port of ancient and 
modern Athens, is a safe harbour, protected by the island 
of Salamis, the Morea, and by the configuration of the 
coast. Such ports attract mariners and commerce in all 
ages. Instead of the great commercial and naval emporium 
of former days, there is now merely a suburb of small one 
and two storied houses : wine shops, marine stores, and 
lodging-houses. It is connected with Athens, five miles 
distant, by a railway with a single line. 

Athens, lat. 38° 48', was forty years a go a mere Turkish-built 
village or small town, of low one-storied houses in narrow 
streets, the remains of which can be still seen near the 
railway station. In 1834 it was proclaimed the capital of 
the modern kingdom of Greece, and a new town has been 
built north of the old one, between it and the base of the 
Acropolis rock, on which is situated the Parthenon. This 
new town may be compared to a small English or French 
country town, with small two-storied modern houses and 
a high street in the centre, ascending a hill, at the 
summit of which is a good-sized square. The basement is 
occupied by the king's palace, a factory-looking paralle- 
logramic building surrounded by gardens. On the sides of 
this square several streets abut, at the angles of which are 
some good houses. Several of them are occupied by very 
comfortable hotels. In the side streets of modern Athens 
there are some good buildings, amongst others the Univer- 
sity and the Post Office. On the whole, there is an 
appearance of life and of modern provincial prosperity about 
Athens, but little or nothing to remind the traveller of 
the celebrated Greek city of former days, except the ruins. 
These ruins, situated at the outskirts of the town, are not 
numerous. The Parthenon, or Temple of the Virgin God- 



. ATHENS— RUINS — VEGETATION. 305 

dess Minerva, the Erectheum, built of the hard white marble 
of Pentelicus, the Propylsea, are on the Acropolis rock, 
the site of the old Cecropian fortress, which overlooks and 
crowns the city. They are probably the most chaste and 
beautiful ruins extant, and well worthy of a special visit 
all the way to Athens. There is also the temple of Theseus 
in wonderfully good repair, considering that it was built 
470 B.C. There are still a few grand columns remaining 
of the Temple of Jupiter, the portico of Hadrian, and 
but little else worthy of notice except from antiquarian 
associations. 

The plain in which Athens is situated is six miles wide, 
and is formed by two parallel mountain-ridges about 20UO 
fe£t high, which descend east and west to the sea of 
Salamis. The town lies at the foot of the Acropolis rock, 
itself a spur at the base of the eastern ridge. In the 
centre of the valley is a grove or wood of Olive trees, with 
vines planted between them, irrigated by small streams. 
Small as are these Athenian streams, they bear very cele- 
brated names, for they are no other than the Ilissus on 
the east side of the town, and the Cephisus on the west. 
It was in the shade of these very olive groves that Plato, 
Aristotle, Socrates, and the other sages and orators of 
ancient Greece walked and taught their pupils; so it is 
very sacred ground. The rest of the Attica plain, beyond 
the olive grove's, is cultivated with grain of different kinds, 
or left fallow. The soil seems very poor and exhausted 
from want of manure and proper treatment. 

After devoting the first morning to the world-renowned 
ruins, I directed my steps in the afternoon to the Botanical 
Garden, in the plain. Here I made the acquaintance of 
the director, M. Orphanides, Professor of Botany in the 
university, one of the most learned botanists in Europe, 
who kindly showed me his establishment. A part only is 
devoted to botanical purposes, and appears merely intended 
to illustrate the natural families for the instruction of the 
pupils of the university. The greater part of the garden is 
a nursery for the propagation of fruit and other trees, such 
as Mulberry trees, calculated, by their dissemination 
throughout the country, to favour its social and commercial 

x 



306 GREECE AND THE ARCHIPELAGO. 

prosperity; they are sold at 10 centimes (a penny) eacK, 
to all who apply. The garden was the scene of luxuriant 
vegetation, but then the soil was good and deep, that of 
the centre of the plain, there was plenty of water, and 
lastly, and principally, it was surrounded by a wall 20 feet 
high to the north, 10 feet on the other sides. The Orange 
and Lemon trees were nearly all planted on the south side 
of the north wall, protected by which, they grew and 
flourished, but not by any means as at Corfu. There were 
screens of trees and of evergreens also, in many places, to 
break the wind. The pyramidal Cypress is much used all 
over Southern Europe tor this purpose. The other plants 
principally employed as screens were Schinus Mulli, Aleppo 
Pine, Euonymus japonica, Carouba, Ilex, Ailantus glandu- 
losa. Hoses were in full flower, Chromatella shining above 
all others as a climber. This it does all over the South of 
Europe ; in Algeria I have seen one plant fill a tree. Our 
nurserymen do not seem to know it as one of the most 
luxuriant Tea climbers, beating even the Gloire cle Dijon. 
All the hybrid Roses were in full flower, as also Delphinium, 
Poppy, Linum ru bruin, much grown in the South, Collinsia, 
Aquilegia, Sweet Pea, Pittosporum, quite a tree, Oleander, 
the same, not yet in flower, Campanula. 

Behind the King's palace there is a garden of many acres, 
at the circumference of which is a deep thicket of evergreen 
trees, as a screen or protection, with the flowers and 
Aurantise all grouped in the centre. The trees and flowers 
were the same as those in the Botanic Gardens. Jasminum 
revolutum was in great luxuriance, forming large bushes. 
Flowers in this region seem to be treated like vegetables in 
a good Scotch kitchen garden in the bleak North, which 
is generally surrounded by a high wall. Given such pro- 
tection, they thrive everywhere in this latitude, and appear 
from six to eight weeks sooner than they would in our 
own southern or midland counties. 

The roads about Athens are planted with avenues of 
Schinus Mulli, Populus alba, Ailantus glandulosa, Acacia, 
Ilex, and Carouba. The latter does not seem to thrive as a 
road tree, as I found also the case at Algiers, but the former 
flourish and become large trees in the driest and most 



ATHENS — VEGETATION — CLIMATE. 307 

exposed situations. This remark applies specially to the; 
Populus alba and to the Ailantns, which glory in the 
climate, with its dry summer. The Ailantus is beginning, 
I was told, to be extensively cultivated tor its wood. 

The Orange trees were healthy, but rather small, when- 
ever seen, and their height was strictly limited by that of 
the protecting wall or tree belts. In front of the king's 
palace they were mostly phnted in a deep depression or 
pit, clearly to shelter them from the wind. Professor 
Orphanides showed me in his private garden a most 
interesting collection of more than two hundred different 
species of Aurantiae, all small, but well-grown, in full life and 
vigour. He told me there were three hundred recognised 
species in existence. I must add that I do not remember 
seeing a Palm ; Aloes are common. 

The above botanical facts prove that Athens and its 
vicinity, although situated nearly five degrees more to the 
South than the Western Riviera, do not enjoy the same 
amount of protection from north winds and are colder in, 
winter, although the general character of the winter climate 
is the same. That it should be so is easily understood on 
looking at the map. Behind, direct north, Attica is pro- 
tected by Mount Parnes and Mount Cithseron, and also by 
the mountains of Roumelia ; but to the north-east the 
mountainous peninsula, formed by Albania, Roumelia, and 
the Morea, is exposed to cold north-east winds from the 
Black Sea, and to the west to cold north-west winds from 
the Adriatic. Moreover Athens is situated at some dis- 
tance from the more immediately protecting mountains at 
its back. 

These facts recognised and acknowledged, we find in the 
climate of Attica all the climate characteristics of the north 
shore of the Mediterranean : cold north winds, softened 
however by the Black and iEgean seas, by the Adriatic and 
Ionian seas, a pure blue sky and ardent sunshine in winter, 
and intense heat in summer. Such a climate, although a 
healthy and bracing one, cannot be recommended to 
invalids, and especially to chest invalids, as a winter resi- 
dence. It cannot be considered a favourable specimen of 
the bracing, invigorating climates of the more sheltered 

x 2 



308 GREECE AND THE ARCHIPELAGO. 

regions of the Mediterranean, although pertaining to the 
same class. The protection from the north is insufficient. 

I intended to have visited the many scenes of interest in 
Attica within easy reach of Athens, hut the disturbed state 
of the country prevented my so doing. The brigands were 
considered to be dangerous, even within a mile or two of 
the town, and a Government notice, which hung up in the 
hall of the Hotel, was not calculated to inspire confidence. 
Herein it was stated that all strangers wishing to visit the 
vicinity of Athens were begged to apply to the proper 
authorities for an escort, and on no account to venture 
alone. Having no great confidence in the valour of the 
escort, and not wishing to share the fate of our unfor- 
tunate countrymen murdered at Marathon, I preferred 
staying within the range of safety. One morning there 
was a great commotion at the king's palace, and on 
inquiring the motive thereof we were told that the king, 
queen, and children had " most imprudently," without 
saying a word to anyone, driven off alone to picnic in 
some shady place in the vicinity, and that fears were enter- 
tained respecting them ! A company of mounted soldiers 
were sent off in frantic haste after them, and the king and 
his family were brought back in safety and in triumph. 
Had the brigands got hold of them it would certainly have 
been a good haul. Such a state of things, however, is very 
disgraceful. 

My travelling friend, the Greek gentleman, who had 
accompanied me from Brindisi, was at the same hotel, 
and I saw him daily. But he had lost all his buoyancy of 
spirits ; day by day his countenance became more de- 
pressed, and before we parted he confided to me that his 
long-cherished plans and dreams had vanished. He found 
his beloved country too disorganized for it to be possible 
for him to return to it, and to make the settlement he 
wished to make. What was the use of buying real property, 
of investing hard-earned gains in land, when it w^as 
dangerous even to visit one's estates, when the entire 
country was, as it were, in the hands of the brigands. His 
father had been murdered when he was a child, forty years 
ago, in a house which he showed me, inside the town, in 



ATHENS — GOVERNMENT — BRIGANDS. 309 

the dead of the night. He did not wish to expose himself 
and his family to the same fate ; forty years had elapsed, 
and the brigands were still there. 

I had repeated conversations with other well-informed 
Athenian gentlemen on the disturbed political state of their 
country, and their explanation of its causes appeared to me 
reasonable and satisfactory. 

The allied Governments, in founding: the modern king- 
dom of Greece, made a most egregious and fatal mistake. 
They gave to the Greeks a constitutional monarchy, with 
a Chamber elected by universal suffrage, the members of 
which had no property qualification, and were paid. Thus 
to be a member of the Chamber became a business, a career, 
and the ambition of briefless young barristers and of 
fortuneless men of good family. These candidates for the 
Chamber, having nothing whatever to do, could go into 
the provinces and devote months to gaining the goodwill 
of the electors. Once elected, their priucipal object was 
not so much the good of their country as to make a 
permanent position, a living for themselves. Thence a 
general scramble for places, a constant formation of coali- 
tions to upset those in office, and a change of Ministry and 
of all dependents every two or three months, or even 
oftener. There was no remedy, my informants told me, 
but an alteration of the constitution, which was difficult 
to secure, for it would have to be effected by the existing 
Chamber itself. That is, its members would have to sign 
their own death-warrants, and history, ancient and recent, 
tells us that it is very hard to induce effete Parliaments 
and Chambers to dissolve or reform themselves. 

Again, instead of putting as king, at the head of a tur- 
bulent community, on which such a dangerous experiment 
as constitutional monarchy with universal suffrage was 
about to be tried, a stern middle-aged experienced man, 
two amiable but colourless youths have been chosen in suc- 
cession. The modern Greeks require a king stern enough 
to shoot down the brigands like vermin, with a drumhead 
court martial, not amiable young men so thoroughly con- 
stitutional as to leave the country to take care of itself, and 
to accept a new Ministry every six or ten weeks. 



'310 GREECE AND THE ARCHIPELAGO. 

During my stay at Athens there was a grand ceremony 
at the modern Cathedral, a very handsome edifice, at which 
the king, the queen, and, I presume, most of the dignitaries 
of the State were present. I was perfectly amazed and 
dazzled by the number of general officers, colonels, captains 
and admirals, and other dignitaries, who were present in 
gorgeous uniforms. It really might have been West- 
minster Abbey or Notre Dame. On asking a Greek friend 
.where was the army, where was the fleet for all these 
hundreds of officers of high rank, he confessed to me that 
they did not exist, but he added that these high grades in 
the army and navy constituted the only means of reward- 
ing men who had deserved well of their country in the 
war of independence, and even in later years. 

Such is, apparently, the key to the present unsettled 
state of Greece. A constitutional monarchy with advanced 
republican institutions, for which the country is utterly 
unprepared and unfit; an amiable and gentle, but weak and 
irresolute, king, who has not strength enough of will or of 
character to even endeavour to stem the torrent around 
him ; a host of civil, military, and naval placemen, poor as 
Job, and scrambling for the little revenue of the country, 
all intent upon getting into office themselves and keeping 
others out. The state of Greece will probably continue as 
unsettled as it now is until this system of government is 
changed, until these errors are remedied; but who is to 
change the entire political and social organization of the 
kingdom? In the meanwhile brigands occupy the country 
up to the gates of the capital. Agriculture and commerce 
are necessarily at a standstill, and the most patriotic 
capitalists avoid the country. 

I made several pleasant acquaintances, and passed the 
greater part of a week very agreeably. There is a halo of 
antiquity about Athens which throws an indescribable 
interest over it at all times. The Athenians proper dress 
pretty much like the inhabitants of Western Europe, but 
in the streets are constantly to be seen Greeks from the 
islands or the mountains in their picturesque national 
costumes, familiar to us from the pictures and engravings 
of the war. of independence." 



THE ARCHIPELAGO — THE CYCLADES. 311 



THE GRECIAN ARCHIPELAGO. 

On the 7th of August, 1872, I left the Piraeus on an 
Austrian Lloyd steamer for Constantinople, via Smyrna. 
This route enables the traveller to get a glimpse of several 
of the most important islands of the Grecian Archipelago, 
as well as of Asia Minor. The vessels of the Austrian Lloyd 
seem to be the acknowledged and accepted media of com- 
munication in the Eastern Mediterranean. They are gene- 
rally good, well kept, and well-officered boats. The north- 
west wind which had reigned during our stay at Athens, 
tempering agreeably the ardour of the sun's rays, had 
abated, and-weonce more found ourselves gliding pleasantly 
over a calm sea. We had embarked late in the evening, 
enjoyed a good night's rest, and next morning found our- 
selves in the midst of the islands which form the Grecian 
Archipelago. 

The term Archipelago has been more especially given, 
from time immemorial, to the islands which occupy the 
eastern section of the Mediterranean, between Roumelia in 
the north and Candia in the south, between Greece in the 
w.?st and Asia Minor in the east. In former days, as now, 
they were divided into two groups : the Cyclades near 
Europe, and the Sporades near Asia Minor. These islands 
are very numerous; some are of good size, but the great 
majority are very small. The smaller islands are generally 
mere rocks rising out of the sea, apparently barren, but in 
reality covered with Mediterranean brushwood. Some are 
of volcanic origin, but the greater number are calcareous, 
and are often composed of a beautiful white marble, as, for 
instance, Paros, whence the Parian marble was and is 
obtained. The larger islands, in which there is protection 
from wind, are tolerably fertile. They are nearly all thinly 
inhabited, principally by sailors and fishermen, owing, no 
doubt, to their rocky character and to the small amount 
of cultivable soil they contain in the valleys. They look 
very picturesque from the sea, rising out of its depths as 
huge rocks, or as jagged irregular mountainous islands, 
with bold coasts, deep inlets, and precipitous promontories, 



312 THE ARCHIPELAGO — THE CYCLADES. 

the elevation varying from 1000 or 1500 to 2000 feet or 
more. 

When I reached the deck we were running along the 
coast of Thermia, which fully realized the above general 
description, for it seemed a rocky, mountainous island, 
apparently barren. We then passed between Thermia and 
Zea, south of a third island well named Jura, for it soars, 
Jura-like, above the sea, and came to at midday in the 
harbour of Syra. Here we remained until six p.m., which 
gave us time to land and look about us, a great excitement 
and joy to the passengers. 

Syra is a small island, crescent shaped, about four miles 
wide and two in depth. It is a mere rock, some 600 feet 
high at the highest point. The opening of the crescent 
is turned north-west, but it is sheltered in that direction 
from wind and wave by the islands of Thermia, Zea, and 
Jura, previously passed. It has been chosen as the centre 
of the steam navigation of the Eastern Mediterranean, and 
a good-sized town has consequently grown up. It is at 
Syra that the different lines of steamers meet and exchange 
passengers for Greece, Turkey, Asia Minor, Palestine, 
Candia, and other localities in this region. In this sense 
Syra may be compared to St. Thomas in the West Indies. 

I at once took a boat, and finding no botanical com- 
panion amongst my fellow-travellers landed alone, and 
spent the day rambling on the hills and small valleys 
round the town. These hills were very bare, the ground 
vegetation even being scanty, but in the most barren sun- 
burnt spots I found growing freely a small Silene, I believe 
the Silene cretica, and its presence in such spots illustrates 
and explains the freedom of its growth in the most sun- 
burnt and arid gardens at Mentone. In that part of the 
Kiviera generally, the Silene is becoming one of the com- 
monest spring flowers, and is indeed escaping from the 
gardens to the open country, where it will soon, no doubt, 
naturalize itself. With me at Mentone it covers the 
borders where sown, and resows itself spontaneously. The 
most prominent other flowers were the variegated Thistle 
of the Mediterranean, a small Taraxacum, and a Convol- 
vulus. There were very few trees to be seen, and those all 



SYRA— VEGETATION. 313 

but exclusively in folds of the hill-side, at a low elevation, 
where there was shelter from the wind, and a little vege- 
table soil. I discovered a market and fruit garden in one 
of these folds, about a mile east of the town, which I 
examined with great interest, illustrating as it did the 
difficulty of contending with north-east or north-west 
winds, even in latitude 37° 18', in the middle of the Grecian 
Archipelago, under a burning sun. Syra is more than half 
a degree further south than Athens, and at this date (May 8) 
the sun-heat was intense, although the air was cool and 
pleasant. The garden, which extended over an area of 
about eight acres, occupied the bottom of a wave or fold of 
the hill, near the sea, and was surrounded by a wall ten 
feet high. Moreover, on the side towards the sea, there 
was a row of Cypress trees, and further on a quadruple row 
of Canuas, about fifteen feet high. Behind this shelter 
vegetables were growing luxuriantly — Artichokes, Melons, 
Tomatos — the latter freshly planted out apparently. Broad 
Beans and Peas were being gathered. There were also' Fig 
trees and Pomegranates in flower, and in the most sheltered 
corner Orange bushes, some eight or ten feet high, healthy, 
and bearing both ripe fruit and flowers. 

I find that where wind is feared, in Greece and in the 
Grecian Archipelago, two plans are adopted to keep Orange 
trees low — as low as the walls that protect them : either 
they are planted very closely together — so much so as 
evidently to impede luxuriant growth — or they are culti- 
vated as bushes, with many stems instead of one. In 
Spain we have seen that this latter plan is all but inva- 
riably followed— so that the Orange tree presents a 
different character to that under which it is observed on 
the Genoese Riviera and in Southern Italy. There were a 
few of the usual early summer flowers dotted here and 
there — Bengal Roses, Antirrhinums, Delphiniums. Some 
Pear trees had fruit the size of a Filbert. 

In the town of Syra itself there were some plants, trees, 
and flowers in the courtyards of the houses, wherever they 
were completely screened from the wind, healthy, but not 
large — probably from want of soil — Almond, Ailantus, 
Olive, Vine, Pomegranate, Acacia, a Date Palm or two, a 



C314 THE ARCHIPELAGO— THE CYCLADES. 

Virginian Creeper, Carnations, and Pelargoniums in pots. 
All over the south of Europe I have found a miserable, 
pale-hued Pelargonium cultivated in pots with great care 
and affection as something rare and precious. Our glorious 
varieties have not reached the south as yet. 

The sunshine and summer heat at Syra are evidently 
powerful enough to produce any vegetable form belonging 
to subtropical regions, but protection from northern winds 
is clearly necessary, even in latitude 37° lb', many degrees 
south' of the Genoese Riviera. 

Syra or Syros (Svpa or ^vpog) was well known to the 
ancients, and is described by Homer and other Greek poets 
as having two towns, and as being rich in pastures, wine, 
fruit, and corn. Many valuable relics of antiquity have 
been discovered in modern times. Its central position and its 
good port no doubt made it an important place then as now. 

The modern town creeps up the side of the hill from the 
harbour. The latter, safe and deep, contained many large 
steamers, French Messageries, Austrian Lloyd, Turkish, 
going to and from Marseilles, Trieste, Athens, Smyrna, 
Constantinople, Candia, and many schooners and small 
vessels, laden with, oranges, lemons, wine, and oil, moored 
close in shore. The houses along the port were principally 
wine shops, eating houses, marine stores, and cafes, rilled 
with a picturesque population of sunburnt sailors and 
islanders. Most of them were dressed in their national 
costume — short jackets and waistcoats, with a red sash 
round the waist, and breeches or trousers very full, and 
descending below the knee, the leg being bare, and the feet 
encased in sandals. On their heads they wear a red cap, 
and the hair is allowed to grow long and made to lie 
on the back ; they wear moustachios, but no beard. The 
dress of the women is less peculiar, consisting in a long 
jacket trimmed with braid or fur, petticoats, and a red cap. 
The men, bronzed by the Eastern sun wherever the skin 
was exposed — neck, face, legs — were muscular, hardy, and 
good-looking; whilst the women were decidedly handsome, 
recalling to mind the old Grecian statuary type. This 
description applies to the inhabitants of all the islands 
composing the Archipelago. 



SYRA — CANDIA. 315 

I wandered about the port with great interest, gazing 
into the deep, transparent blue waters, which seemed to 
support the keels of the boats and vessels without effort, 
as if they were swimming in air instead of in water, 
watching the lazy loading and unloading of the vessels, 
according to Eastern ways, in the midst of a Babel of 
voices. I looked into the cafes and stores, and stood 
longingly before the cooks' shops, where fish was being fried, 
hesitating whether I should or not have a Syrote dinner 
of fried fish, -white bread, and "vin du pays'" with the 
Greek sailors. This at last I did, and enjoyed the repast. 

By six all the passengers had returned on board, the 
anchor was weighed, and we again started on our pil- 
grimage. Within fifty yards of us was a large Candia 
steamer, also on the eve of departure, and an exchange of 
amicable salutations took place between the passengers of 
the two ships. I was told that it would reach Candia the 
next morning, and much regretted I had not time to make 
a diversion in that direction. It was provoking to be so 
near, merely separated by a night's cruise, and yet to have 
to pass on. Candia is a magnificent island, with mountains 
six or seven thousand feet high, in which a Christian 
population defied, until quite recently, all the power of the 
Turks. Within the last few years, after a heroic rebellion 
and resistance, prolonged with desperation aud without any 
assistance beyond what their Greek countrymen of the 
mainland could give, they succumbed. Christian Europe 
looked on with apathy — with apparent indifference — and 
saw the Christian Candiotes slaughtered without lifting up 
her hand to stay the massacre and devastation ; and now 
they really are subdued and enslaved by the Mussulman. 
How different from the days of the Crusaders ! — how luke- 
warm Christian Europe has become ! 

The weather was so beautiful, the sea so calm, that we 
could surrender ourselves wuthout reserve to the enjoyment 
of the scene. Our destination was the Island of Scio, on 
the coast of Asia Minor, but all that evening we were still 
in the iEgean Sea, among the Cyclades, skirting their pre- 
cipitous shores, gazing on their rocky heights, dreaming of 
the lovely Orange, Lemon, Pomegranate and Olive groves 



316 THE ARCHIPELAGO — THE CYCLADES. 

concealed in their recesses. These scenes of fertility and 
beauty existed, but hidden from our gaze, which only 
rested on wind and storm-beaten shores, rocks, and 
mountains. 

As we turned the northern promontory of Syra, we had 
in full view the mountainous islands of Andros, Tino, and 
Myconi, all celebrated in former days for wine, fruit, oil, 
and lovely women. These islands run from north-west to 
south-east, are long and narrow, precipitous, barren, and 
even forbidding on their north-west coasts, tolerably fertile 
on the north-east, and fairly peopled. Myconi, the most 
southern of the three, is also the most rocky and barren, 
whence in classical times the saying, "a Myconian guest." 
The inhabitants of Myconi were reported so poor that they 
were apt to appear in the light of parasites, and to come 
to their friend or patron's table uninvited. 

We were passing between Tino and Myconi as the 
shadows of evening were closing over us, and I do not 
recollect ever having witnessed a more lovely scene. Our 
screw steamer, like a thing of life, was gliding swiftly over 
the blue waters of the Mediterranean, leaving a phos- 
phorescent furrow behind it in the "harvestless sea" 
(Homer). The setting sun in the west still illumined the 
horizon, casting streaks of rosy light on the waters, and 
burnishing the rocks and mountains around us, endowing 
them with southern beauty. I was vividly reminded of a 
similar evening spent at sea on the west coast of Scotland, 
amongst the Western Isles, between Oban and Skye. The 
past and the present scene were all but equally lovely, 
and yet how different the Ossianic beauty of the green 
waters and heather-clad hills and mountains of the Western 
Isles and the blue waters and sunburnt rocks of the 
Grecian Archipelago ! 

These were the last of the Cyclades w T e saw. Between 
them and the Sporades on the coast of Asia Minor, there 
is an open sea. I remained on deck until they were out of 
sight, and then retired with regret, repeating the words — 

" Morn, alas, will not restore ns, 
Yonder dim and distant isle." 



THE SPGRADES— CHIOS. 317 

I had become enamoured with their wild sunburnt beauty, 
and regretted I had not some weeks to devote to them. It 
would be a charming excursion in spring and early summer, 
with a good steam yacht, and pleasant, intellectual com- 
panions, to wander from one island to the other, nestling in 
pretty coves and bays like that of Syra, exploring the 
fertile orange-clad valleys and recesses, bathing in the 
pellucid, transparent sea, fishing, dozing, and dreaming. 
How seldom it is, however, in life that we can indulge in 
such day-dreams ! It is nearly always the same; we are 
obliged inexorably to continue our pilgrimage. 

Another peaceful night brought us to the shores of 
another lovely island, Chios, or Scio, as the Italians call it. 
We were awakened by the engines stopping, and on 
reaching the deck found we were opposite a good-sized 
town, that of Chios, at the foot of a gentle sloping moun- 
tain, Pelinseus by name, on the western coast of the island. 
Here we remained for two hours, unloading and taking in 
cargo and passengers. 

- The island of Chios is thirty miles long by ten wide, 
and lies due north and south. A ridge of mountains, 
apparently about 3000 feet high, runs from N.E. to S.W., 
and at their base are lower hills abutting 1 on them. The 
aspect therefore is S.E., the same as that of Mentone, and I 
saw reproduced before me the familiar features of my winter 
abode on the Genoese Riviera. Calcareous mountains, 
apparently white and naked in their upper two-thirds, 
although in reality sparsely clothed with aromatic plants — 
Lentiscus, Thyme, Rosemary, Myrtle, Fennel — whilst the 
lower third and the more level ground near the shore is 
occupied by forests of Olive trees, with, no doubt, groves of 
Orange and Lemon trees in the more sheltered nooks and 
folds. Their presence was rendered clear by the abundant 
supply of Oranges and Lemons brought by the native 
boatmen who surrounded the steamer. These boatmen 
also brought quantities of a substance used in medioine 
from time immemorial, and, mixed with honey or sugar, 
as a sweetmeat — the gum called Terebinthinus Chio. It is 
the product of the Pistacia Terebinthus, and indicates 
extreme summer heat and dryness. In the desert of 



318 THE ARCHIPELAGO— THE SPORADES. 

Sahara it is the last plant to give in, according to 
Tristram, standing an amount of heat and dryness which' 
no other tree or shrub can bear. It grows freely on my 
rocks at Mentone, producing the same gum as that offered 
to me at Chios. Evidently thorough shelter from the 
north produces at Chios the same climate conditions ; 
and I have no doubt that a more minute examination 
would have shown that the vegetation of this lovely 
southern island, and that of the more sheltered region 
of the Genoese Riviera, are identical, notwithstanding the 
difference of latitude. The more complete protection 
of the latter makes up for the more southern latitude of 
the former. 

The Cyclades all belong to the modern kingdom of 
Greece, whilst the Sporades are still under the dominion 
of the Turks, who have been their masters from the time 
of Solyman the Great, who took Chios in 1566. It was long 
an appanage of the Sultana mother, who used to send officers 
yearly to collect taxes, and the mastic gum was much used by 
the ladies of the Seraglio for chewing. Protected by the in- 
fluence of successive sultanas Chios became very prosperous, 
rich, and populous. In 1822, however, the inhabitants 
joined Greece and rose in insurrection. The Turks defeated 
them, again took possession of the island, burnt the city of 
Chios, massacred thousands of the inhabitants, totally 
ruining the island. It is only now beginning to recover 
from this cruel blow. 

My destination was Smyrna, which we reached that day, 
but as Smyrna is on the mainland, on the south shore of 
the Mediterranean, I shall leave what I have to say re- 
specting it for the third section of this work. I will only 
add now that we embarked at Smyrna a few days later, on 
board a large Austrian Lloyd steamer, on its way to Con- 
stantinople from Alexandria and Beirout. I found on 
board this fine steamer a most delightful state of things, 
nearly 1200 Mecca pilgrims ! Fortunately, the weather 
was beautiful and the sea calm, so they did not come to 
grief; but had we encountered a forty-eight hourS' storm, 
such as I have known even in spring in the Mediterranean, 
with hatches down, and waves rolling over the vessel, I 



TURKISH PILGRIMS ON BOARD. 31 9 

really think hundreds must have perished. They rilled the: 
vessel, upper decks, and lower decks, like sheep in a pen on 
market days, and presented a most singular and interesting 
aspect. I was as busy as a bee all the time I was on board 
studying, observing, analysing; it was Bagdad, Damascus, 
Ispahan, brought home. Every Eastern race, every species 
of Eastern costume, every age, was represented. They had 
all with them a small mattress or carpet, on which they 
lay, and in which they rolled up their cooking utensils, for 
they had no other luggage, only the clothes on their backs. 
Amongst them were also some Russian pilgrims returning 
from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. All, both Mussulman, 
Turks, and Christian Russians, who escaped the dangers 
of their pilgrimage, and reached home safely, for the rest 
of their lives would be considered saintly men, and would 
be treated with great reverence and respect by their country- 
men. They really deserve some such reward on this earth 
for their courage and self-abnegation, for they run great 
risks from pestilence, from famine, and from the dangers 
of the deep. I heard from the captain of an Alexan 
dria boat on which I was travelling lately, that a shon 
time before 120 pilgrims had been washed off the 
deck of an Austrian steamer and drowned, near Alexan- 
dria, " without its being any one's fault," a good illustra- 
tion of the danger of deck-loading to all parties. This I 
quite believe, when I think of my own experience ; had a 
large wave washed our decks it must have carried hundreds 
overboard. We had certainly above 500 on the upper deck 
alone. 

It was impossible not to watch with intense delight the 
inner and outer life of this crowd of Orientals, massed 
together in so small a compass. The ship gave no provi- 
sions, merely water, but they all had a little store in hand, 
principally rice, dates, bread and coffee. On every side the 
cooking was going on with spirit-lamps, three or four 
combining for the purpose, and sitting cross-legged round 
the fire watching the preparation of their modest repast. 
I could not help thinking what tons and tons of food 
would be required by 1200 Englishmen like myself 
similarly situated. All kinds of odd scenes were taking 



320 THE ARCHIPELAGO — THE SPOHADES. 

place in a quiet impassible way. One little incident 
roused the apathy even of our Eastern fellow^passengers. 
A middle-aged dignified Turk had bought in Egypt, as a 
slave, a negro boy of fourteen, and for some omission or 
other beat him unmercifully. A sailor saw the chastise- 
ment given and told the Austrian captain. The latter at 
oncewent to the Turk and took the boy away, saying that 
he was free from the moment his foot had touched an 
Austrian ship. At first the Turk could not be made to 
understand what had happened, it seemed so strange to 
him that he should not be able to do what he liked with 
his own property' — a not un-English sentiment. At last 
his loss was made clear, when he burst into a series of loud 
lamentations that were heard all over the vessel, tore his 
beard, his hair and his clothes, and in the Eastern way 
threw what ashes or dirt he could find on his head. He 
met with no sympathy or commiseration from the Euro- 
peans. All the sailors and passengers were positively 
delighted at what had occurred; and the poor Turk was 
told to cease his outcry or to carry it on sotto voce, or the 
consequences to himself might be most unpleasant. So he 
collapsed, curled himself up, and remained for the rest of 
the journey a prey to grief — a ruined man, as he had 
exclaimed many times. We landed some of our Eastern 
passengers at each of the islands and ports we passed, at 
Mytelene (Lesbos), Tenedos, Lemnos. This was always 
a most interesting ceremony with the bare-legged, tur- 
baned, full-breeched boatmen and the awkward Oriental 
passengers, but the greater part of them were destined for 
the mainland, for Turkey proper. 

This latter part of our cruise was as enjoyable as the 
'first. The various islands we passed and stopped at were 
as lovely as those described, and presented the same cha- 
racteristics. As all the Sporades, however, are under the 
dominion of the Turk, and partly inhabited by Turks, 
there was the additional charm of Turkish Orientalism, 
costume and manners, about them and around us. Thus 
at Smyrna we took up the harem of a Turkish pasha and 
governor, and carried the ladies with us to a town on the 
Dardanelles. A tent was made on the deck, and they were 



CONSTANTINOPLE. 321 

there located with their attendants and children. The 
pasha appeared occasionally, walking about in a shuffling 
dignified manner and casting a master's eye over his 
belongings. We got occasional glimpses of the ladies, but 
recognised no great beauty amongst them. They all 
seemed very cheerful and happy, and intensely interested 
in what was going on around them, constantly looking 
out slyly between the folds of their tent at the novel 
scene. The European ladies on board appeared to look 
upon them with great pity, I may say even with supreme 
contempt. The landing of these ladies was a great busi- 
ness, and was accomplished with great ceremony. Nume- 
rous boats came out; they were wrapped up until they 
looked like bundles, or coiled up mattresses, and with their 
slippers half off they were actually " bundled" overboard. 

Surrounded by all this strange life, immersed in practical 
Orientalism, Mecca pilgrims of twenty races, harems, 
Turks, Jews, Armenians, Negroes, soldiers in outlandish 
uniforms, civilians in queer costumes, we passed along the 
coast of Troy, were shown the exact site of the old city, 
and the precise point on the coast where the Scamander 
enters the sea. Then we entered the far-famed Darda- 
nelles, crossed the Sea of Marmora and anchored, at last, in 
the Golden Horn of Constantinople, May 15, 1872. 

CONSTANTINOPLE. 

Constantinople is situated at the southern entrance of the 
Straits which separate Europe from Asia, and extend from 
the Sea of Marmora to the Black Sea. The Straits, about 
twenty miles long, are of variable width, but generally about 
that of the Thames at Greenwich. The old city is built 
on a narrow promontory which rises gradually to a height of 
200 feet. Its southern slope is in the Sea of Marmora, andthe 
northern forms one side of the Golden Horn, an inlet of the 
sea which leads up to the mouth of a little river, three or four 
miles distant — the Sweet Waters, a pretty name. Here the 
Sultan has a summer palace, and a garden or shrubbery. 

On the opposite side of theGolden Horn inlet the shorealso 
rises by a gentle slope to an elevation of about 200 feet, and 

x 



322 CONSTANTINOPLE. 

here modern Constantinople has spread without limit. 
The highest point is occupied by the Pera or European 
quarter, composed of one long street about thirty feet wide, 
and of many smaller ones leading" into it, some fifteen feet 
wide. The houses are like those of a small French provincial 
town. An extensive area, at least half a mile square, when 
I was there (1872) was one mass of charred ruins, the trace 
of a great fire which had occurred the previous year; only 
a few of the houses then destroyed had been rebuilt. These 
suburbs are connected with the old Turkish town by the 
celebrated and picturesque bridge of boats, about twice as 
long as London Bridge, On the other or Asiatic side of 
the Straits, a mile distant, lies the town of Scutari, which 
also ascends a hill rising gently from the water's edge. 

Constantinople as seen from the water is certainly as 
picturesque as it is reputed to be; nor was the effect 
marred in my eyes, when I landed. The variety of race, the 
quaintness of costumes, the intensely Oriental character of 
the entire scene, made more than amends for the smallness 
and meanness of the wooden houses, and for the absence of 
monumental buildings such as are met with in other 
European capitals. 

On the very clay of my arrival I took a caique, a deep 
narrow light boat or canoe, without rudder, pointed at both 
ends, peculiar to Constantinople, and went up the Golden 
Horn to "the Sweet, Waters/' For the first few miles it 
is like the Thames at Wapping, both shores being covered 
with timber and ship-yards, ironworks and marine stores, 
but as we recede from the town, and the inlet narrows 
between two low sloping grass-covered hills, the landscape 
becomes more rural. Trees appear on the road on each side, 
and when we reach the Sultan's palace, about five miles 
distant, the scene assumes the aspect of Richmond or 
Hampton Court — a narrow river between low hills, with 
trees dotted at the base, and the palace and gardens in the 
background. It was a holiday, and underneath these trees 
were many festive groups from the city in every variety of 
costume, conspicuous among which were Turkish ladies 
with their little children, several eunuchs, and negro ser^ 
vants. The lower part of the face was carefully covered 



VEGETATION CLIMATE. 323 

with a muslin band, so as only to allow the eyes to be seen ; 
notwithstanding this precaution I thought I saw several 
pretty young physiognomies. 

The trees were, principally, Ailantus glandulosa, Celtis 
occidentalis, Melia Azedarach, Acacia in full* flower, Populus 
alba, Ash, Plane, Elm, Robinia Pseud-Acacia, Arbutus, 
Horse Chestnut, going out of flower. The Sultan, like his 
subjects, had come to have a picnic dinner at his country 
house, so I could not examine the garden. The trees and 
shrubs that surrounded it appeared the same as those outside. 
I saw the dinner landed from a gorgeous caique, all gold 
and ornament. Each dish, large and round, wrapped in a 
velvet bag, was ceremoniously taken out of the boat and 
placed on the head of a swarthy Turkish attendant, who 
forthwith marched off to the palace with his burden, in 
truly Oriental style. 

I subsequently went over the grounds of the Seraglio 
Palace in the old town (May 16), and there saw all the trees 
mentioned nourishing and in perfect health; also large 
Plane and Linden trees, Sambnca, Laburnum, some Oaks, 
both deciduous and evergreen, the former not quite in full 
leaf; Euonymus japonica, simple and variegated; Judas 
going out of flower ; small Deodaras, Pinus Pinea, large 
Cupressus Lambertiana, Tournefortii, Aleppo Pine. The 
flowers were those usually seen in the South of Europe in 
May — Antirrhinum, Delphinium, Stocks, Nemophila insig- 
nis, Marigold, garden Daisies, Bengal Roses, Banksias, 
Cineraria, Verbena, Hollyhocks (not in flower), Aquilegia. 

The Antirrhinum grows wild in many localities of the 
Mediterranean in two varieties, a light yellow and a light 
purple. I found the ruins of Ephesus covered with the 
latter, as also with a large Campanula, just like our garden 
Canterbury Bell. This I have not seen elsewhere, but a 
travelling companion, just returned from Syria and Pales- 
tine, told me that he saw it also growing wild, although 
not large, in many parts of those countries. He likewise 
found, in the same localities, growing wild in great abun- 
dance, the Hollyhock, generally dwarfish in development, 
no doubt owing to the scantiness and dryness of the soil ; 
in some very dry places he saw it in full flower when not 

t2 



324 CONSTANTINOPLE. 

more than six inches high. I subsequently saw Larkspurs 
growing in great luxuriance and abundance, wild, in. 
Bulgaria, between "Varna and the Danube. 

Thus it would seem that many of our common garden 
flowers have originated around the Mediterranean, and have, 
probably, been the garden flowers of our horticultural pre- 
decessors for thousands of years. Who can tell whether the 
Antirrhinum and Campanula I saw at Ephesus may not be 
the lineal descendants of those that gladdened the eyes of 
the Ephesians two thousand years ago? 

Around the base of the promontory on which stands 
Stamboul, or old Constantinople, are still extant, in very 
tolerable preservation, although in ruins in many places, 
the walls that formerly defended the city, as also the towers 
that strengthened them every fifty yards. These walls 
extend four miles, from the sea of Marmora to the Golden 
Horn, and are triple, with moats, or ditches, between each. 
Being turned to the south-west and protected from the north 
by the city, they constitute by far the most sheltered region 
of Constantinople or its vicinity. The ditches or moats are 
now cultivated as kitchen gardens and orchards, whilst the 
walls in ruins are clothed with plants and trees, sown by 
the wind and by the birds. I rode slowly along the entire 
circuit, carefully examining the vegetation. 

The vegetables grown were Peas and Broad Beans (ripe), 
Artichokes, large Tomatoes, small plants ; vigorous Melons 
and Gourds, small plants. There were many Fig trees, 
scarce or absent elsewhere; large, magnificent Walnut trees 
in great numbers, little seen elsewhere ; Mulberry trees in 
great numbers; Cherry trees, fruit not ripe, only beginning 
to colour ; Pears small ; Elderberry in flower, quite trees, 
and numerous; Loquats, fruiting ; Pomegranates in flower, 
Almond, large trees; Peach, Apricot, fruit large; Vines, 
flower buds just appearing. The ruins themselves were 
covered in places with Ivy and Lentiscus, and with many 
of the trees above named, self-sown, growing out of the 
crevices. Here and there I saw the Honeysuckle and wild 
Rose in flower among the brushwood. There were no 
Palms, Opuntias, Aloes, Orange or Lemon trees, even in 
the most sheltered spots, nor did I find them anywhere at 



VEGETATION — CLIMATE. 325 

or near Constantinople. The only fruit seen in the shops 
were Oranges, Strawberries, and Cherries, the latter not 
ripe. The Oranges were very large, lemon-shaped, from 
Jaffa and Tyre, and dear. 

The three most remarkable trees at and near Constanti- 
nople are the Platan us orientalis, the Celtis occidentals, 
and the Cupressus pyramidalis. They all there become 
timber trees, and attain a size which I have seen equalled 
nowhere else in the Mediterranean. The Plane trees 
especially are prodigious in size and most venerable in age. 
There is one in the yard of the Seraglio, well known to 
botanists, which is supposed to be above two thousand 
years old. Its circumference is enormous, and in a large 
cavity of its trunk lived for a century or more the outer 
janitor or policeman of the Seraglio. It is, however, still a 
fine handsome healthy tree, covered with foliage. Another 
Plane tree, of nearly equal dimensions, at Bayukdere, on 
the Bosphorus, was an old and venerated tree at the time 
of the Crusaders, and is called the Plane of Godefroy de 
Bouillon. The Celtis occideutalis is seen everywhere as a 
timber tree, as large as or larger than a hundred-year-old 
Oak. It is met with, equally well developed, in Spain ; 
there are some very fine trees on the public square at Grasse, 
near Nice. The pyramidal Cypress overshadows Con- 
stantinople, for it is planted in the Turkish cemeteries, 
which occupy a considerable part of the city, inside and 
out. These cemeteries are not enclosed by walls, and are 
traversed by paths and roads in every direction ; they are 
the resort of all on whose track they lie. The Turks show 
their respect for the dead by not disturbing them, other- 
wise they live with them familiarly, attracted, perhaps, in 
p:irt by the shadow of the Cypress trees, which attain an 
altitude and a trunk development unknown elsewhere. 

At the summit of the hill, on which stands the Pera, or 
Frank quarter, there is a garden of some three or four acres 
in extent, recently made and planted, and intended as a 
kind of Yauxhall or Tivoli coffee and music garden. I 
examined it carefully, thinking that it must illustrate the 
vegetation of the locality, as the directors would be only 
likely to plant what they knew would succeed. I only 



CONSTANTINOPLE. 

found the plants and flowers named above, and among them 
scarcely one that would not grow in England. There is 
nothing southern or Oriental to be observed. 

This remark applies to the entire vegetation of Con- 
stantinople and of its vicinity. Evidently the winters are 
cold ; the air must be, and is, so cooled by the proximity 
of the cold Black Sea, and of the ice-bound countries 
around it, that nothing absolutely southern can thrive. 
At the same time, all plants that can stand moderate 
winter frost, and yet rejoice in intense dry heat in summer, 
live and flourish. Constantinople is in latitude 41° ; the 
mouths of the Danube are in latitude 45°, a difference of 
four degrees, or 240 miles only, without intervening moun- 
tains. The Danube is frozen every winter to its sea outlet, 
for four months, from November to March, and frozen to 
such a depth that carts often cross it where it is two 
miles wide, as opposite Rustchuk, in latitude 43° 30", merely 
150 miles from Constantinople. The wonder is that 
the latter city is not colder, a fact that can only be explained 
by the proximity of the sun-warmed Mediterranean. Thus, 
the absence of mountain protection from the north exer- 
cises a very marked and most unfavourable influence on the 
winter climate of Constantinople. 

Constantinople is certainly a very fascinating place for 
the European traveller. The population is 400,000, but of 
these about one-half are Armenians, Greeks, and Jews. 
The Turkish women always appear in the streets veiled, 
only showing their eyes, whilst the Christians leave their 
faces uncovered. The Armenian women often dress in 
Oriental fashion, and being frequently very good-looking, 
contribute to the scene the element of Oriental feminine 
grace. The veiled Turkish women soon cease to attract 
attention, for they are mere waddling bundles of clothes, 
much to be pitied when really pretty, for all their good 
looks are entirely lost on the public ; on all but their 
fathers and husbands — a sad state of things ! 

I must, however, leave the description of Constantinople, 
of its mosques and bazaars, of its Dervises and cemeteries, 
of its curious customs and ways, to others. In six days I 
managed to see all that was most interesting, by confiding 



THE RETURN — STRAITS — BLACK SEA. 327 

myself entirely to an experienced dragoman, by far the best 
plan in an unknown locality when pressed for time. By 
his advice, when thirsty or exhausted between meals, I 
merely took a Turkish cupful of coffee, which contains 
about a third of an English teacup, with an invariably 
good result. It is the Oriental mode of meeting fatigue, 
thirst, and exhaustion, and is an infinitely better and safer 
one than ours of taking wine, beer, ices, iced water, or 
solid food under such circumstances. The desired restora- 
tive effect is produced, and no ill effects follow, no in- 
digestion, no heartburn. When we do take coffee in the 
daytime we clearly take three times too much. 

Once at Constantinople, the natural way home for us 
western Europeans is by the Danube. I took this route 
myself, and shall make a few remarks on it, partly to guide 
others, and partly because this journey, which carries the 
traveller from east to west behind the mountains that 
shelter the north-east shore of the Mediterranean, com- 
pletes the study of that shore. 

The usual course adopted, and the one I followed, is to 
take steamer from Constantinople to Varna, the railway 
from Yarna to Rustchuk on the Danube, and then to 
embark on the river steamers for Pesth and Yienua. We 
started at four p.m. from the Golden Horn, and after 
steaming through the Straits, reached the Black Sea. The 
Straits of Constantinople, the Thracian Bosphorus of former 
days, form the communication between the Sea of Marmora 
and the Black Sea. They are never more than a mile and 
a quarter wide, and are limited on both sides by gently rising, 
tree-covered hills, dotted with villages and with country 
villas, belonging to the wealthy classes of Constantinople. 

Once in the Black Sea, we soon lost sight of land, and 
reached Yarna the next morning at nine. We saw the 
wall-surrounded town situated on an eminence to our right, 
but did nob enter it. We were taken straight from the 
ship to the railway station, a few hundred yards from the 
shore, started at ten in very comfortable carriages, and 
arrived at Rustchuk at four, after passing through a level 
country but little inhabited or cultivated, principally grass 
land. Rustchuk is a hundred miles from the mouth of the 



328 THE VOYAGE UP THE DANUBE. 

Danube, and the point where the Danube steamers take up 
and leave their passengers. Before long there will be a 
railway direct from Constantinople to "Rustchuk, which will 
save the Black Sea voyage. The line is already open to 
Adrianople (1874). 

The Danube steamers are large commodious vessels, and 
being fitted up with every convenience and comfort, a 
journey by them becomes a positive pleasure. I greatly 
enjoyed the combination of comfort and ease with the sense 
of rapid motion. There were many clever, intellectual 
persons on board, gentlemen and ladies, Roumans, Ger- 
mans, Russians, and all spoke French perfectly, so it was 
the general medium of conversation. We became very 
friendly and communicative, sitting on the deck in easy 
chairs, sipping coffee three or four times a day, and watch- 
ing the willow-clad shore fleeting rapidly by. Various 
subjects of conversation, social, ethical, literary, and politi- 
cal, were broached and discussed with a fire, an energy, an 
eloquence very foreign to our Northern ways. These al 
fresco conversations and wordy tournaments gave an addi- 
tional charm to our progress, and beguiled the time very 
pleasantly. 

We should have appreciated still more the pleasurable 
features of our Danube voyage had it not been for the 
intense heat. On May the 19th we had 92° Fah. all day 
in the saloon cabin, and on deck, under the awning, we had 
90°, and on the 21st 88°. The nights were cool, about 70°, 
but we were told that in a few weeks, by the middle of 
June, they would be as hot as the day. Whilst 1 was at 
Constantinople the thermometer was never. more than 80° 
in the day and 70° at night. The greater heat of the 
Danube region, considerably to the north of Constantinople, 
at the same period of the year, was no doubt owing to its 
distance from the sea. It is a well known fact in physical 
geography that all continental regions are warmer in 
summer and colder in winter, than the sea shore ; the sea 
water warms the atmosphere in winter, cools it in summer. 
This intense heat lasted all the way to Pesth in Hungary, 
except during the few hours that we were passing through 
a mountainous region, called " The Gates of Iron." 



THE BALKAN MOUNTAINS. 329 

We were two nights and three days steaming up the 
Danube from Rustchuk to Pesth. Some of our party left 
the steamer at Basiasch to take the rail for Pesth, thereby 
saving twenty-four hours river travelling at the expense of 
twelve hours on the railway — a bad bargain according to 
my view of the case. During all this long voyage we were 
passing incessantly — at the Iron Gates excepted — through 
a low alluvial plain, with banks from one to three feet 
high, lined with Willows and Poplars, Poplars and Willows. 
Gradually the conviction forces itself on the mind that 
there may be 800 species of Salicinse, as described by a 
recent author in a monograph on the Willow family ! 
They are certainly found everywhere, from Cape North to 
the " Waters of Babylon," wherever water exists. There 
were other trees in the background, but it was difficult, if 
not impossible, to recognise them, as the steamer passed 
swiftly by at some distance from the shore ; they were 
clearly all northern types of vegetation. The south was 
hidden from our view by the mountains which fringe and 
protect the north-eastern shore of the Mediterranean. We 
were travelling due east and west, on the north side of 
these mountains, which screen the eastern Mediterranean 
and its islands from northern blasts. 

The first day our course was due west, along the northern 
frontier of Bulgaria. On the southern horizon we saw, all 
day, the Balkan chain of mountains, running east and west, 
and covered with snow. At this time of the year, the 
presence of snow on a mountain in latitude 4&° implies 
that it is at least 6000 feet high. This high chain it is 
that protects the iEgean Sea and the Grecian Archipelago. 
The Balkan chain is continuous with other high mountains 
that continue the protection westwards ; but the principal, 
most complete, and deepest protection to the north shores 
of the Mediterranean is evidently that afforded by the 
Alps of Tyrol and Switzerland, which form a tremendous 
barrier to the north . winds. Thence it is that on the 
Genoese Riviera we have Orange and Lemon groves, Palms 
and tropical plants, and a complete absence of frost in 
sheltered places ; whilst at Rustchuk, in nearly the same 
latitude (4o° 30"), the Danube is frozen down to the sea 



330 THE EASTERN MEDITERRANEAN. 

for four months every year. No known fact in physical 
geography could better illustrate the influence of protection 
as regards climate and vegetation. 

This journey in the Eastern Mediterranean , and the 
return by the Danube, proved intensely interesting 
to me, and cleared away much obscurity from my mental 
vision respecting the climate of these regions of the 
Mediterranean, which I had not previously visited. I 
confess to having expected to find Genoese Rivieras all along 
the coast. I thought, guided by classical reminiscences, 
that the Grecian islands were covered with bowers of Roses 
and groves of Orange trees. I thought Smyrna was in a 
Palm forest surrounded with orchards of Lemon trees, and 
that Constantinople was in vegetation a truly southern city. 
Instead of this, I found the Grecian coast all but devoid of 
subtropical vegetation, the Grecian islands mere sunburnt, 
wind-scarred rocks, except in sheltered folds or nooks ; 
Smyrna growing Heliotropes and Pelargoniums in pots, 
Orange trees only as bushes behind high walls, with an 
additional shelter of trees, and Constantinople with an all 
but northern vegetation, that of Madrid with its cold 
winter and hot summer. Yet by an attentive scrutiny of 
the map, these facts might have been foretold, for they are 
in strict accordance with the data given by physical 
geography. 



PART II. 

THE LARGE ISLANDS OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. 



CHAPTER XI. 

CORSICA. 

ITS PHYSICAL, GEOLOGICAL, BOTANICAL, AND SOCIAL CHARACTERISTICS — 
ITS HISTORY — ITS CLIMATE — AJACCIO AND BAST1A AS WINTER 
STATIONS— OREZZA AND GUAGNO AS SUMMER STATIONS — SARTENE, 
RONIFACIO, AND THE EASTERN COAST. 

" My dream is of an island- place 
Which distant seas keep lonely, 
* * * * 

An island full of hills and dells 

All rumpled and uneven, 

With green recesses, sudden swells, 

And odorous valleys driven, 

So deep and straight that always there 

The wind is cradled to soft air." 

The Island.— E. B. Browning. 

Those who pass the winter at Cannes, Nice, and Men- 
tone have, generally speaking", only the wide expanse of 
the Mediterranean before them. Occasionally, however, 
when the sea is calm and the air is peculiarly clear, a bold 
mountain land, formed by a. series of irregular peaks, is 
distinctly seen rising out of the sea, on the far south- 
eastern horizon. 

I shall never forget the impression this sight first pro- 
duced on me. I had been some weeks at Mentone, and 
had sat day after day for hours looking at the open sea, 
which I supposed to be a liquid desert for many hundred 
miles, as far as the sandy coast o-f Africa, One morning, 
rising a little after the glorious Mediterranean sun had 
emerged from the eastern sea, I opened the window and 



.A CORSE (CORSICA) 




332 



CORSICA, 



looked out. To my amazement I beheld before me a 
range of mountain summits, like the Alps seen from the 
plains of Lombardy. It appeared quite a glimpse of 
fairyland. As the sun rose higher and higher the distant 
mountains became indistinct, and finally vanished. This 
was Corsica, The irregular peaks were the summits of 
the Monte Cinto, the Monte Rotondo, and the Monte 
d'Oro, mountains from six to nine thousand feet high. I 
have often seen them since, but seldom with the same vivid 
distinctness. 

The period of the day when the Corsican mountains 
are most frequently and most vividly seen is just before 
sunrise, the sun during most of the winter rising just 
behind them ; as it ascends in the heavens, they rapidly 




fade and disappear. Sometimes, however, but rarely, 
they remain apparent throughout the day. Masses of 
white clouds anchored on the higher mountains are often 
observed. That they are resting on the Corsican moun- 
tains is evident from their complete immobility. The dis- 
tance from shore to shore being about ninety miles, and at 
least one hundred and thirty to some of the higher peaks — 
that of Monte d'Oro, for instance — the first or lower two 
or three thousand feet of Corsica cannot be seen at all, 
under any condition of atmosphere, owing to the sphericity 
of the globe. When thus visible from Mentone, the view 
of these mountains becomes much more complete, much 
grander, if the higher levels are reached. From the top 
of the Berceau the entire range of the Corsican highlands 
is seen. 



AS SEEN FROM MENTONE. 333 

These occasional glimpses of a far-distant land impart to 
Corsica a kind of mysterious charm. We have our beds 
placed in view of the east windows, that we may awake by 
times in the morning, and both luxuriously enjoy the mag- 
nificent hues of the rising sun reflected on cloud and water, 
and also scan the horizon for the "fair island." When 
seen in the day, all communicate to one another the im- 
portant fact ; the more interesting from its portending, 
according to the local weather-wise, a break-up in the 
weather — rain, or storm — a statement which my own ex- 
perience leads me to doubt. Great clearness of the atmo- 
sphere means dryness and northerly winds, which in winter 
in this region imply the probable continuance of fine 
weather. 

I may safely assert that nearly the entire English popu- 
lation of Mentone, under the influence of these feelings, 
is each winter possessed with a strong desire to visit 
Corsica. Not only was this desire all but irresistible 
with me, but I had other reasons for wishing to explore its 
shores and mountain land. 

I had become deeply impressed with the unhygienic, 
unhealthy state of the large towns of the south, misnamed 
health-towns. I had become convinced that, owing to the 
absence of hygienic precautions, all the large centres of 
population in the south of Europe, pernicious to the strong 
and sound who inhabit them, are totally unfit for the 
diseased, health-seeking community. As a necessary 
sequence, the only safe residences for such invalids are 
small, sparsely-populated places, such as Hyeres, Cannes, 
Mentone, San Ilemo, or the suburbs of towns such as Pau 
and Nice, in which extra-urban villas have been built ex- 
pressly for invalids. These really healthy winter stations, 
however, are not numerous, and I was anxious to increase 
their number, and believed that I might find in Corsica 
good winter residences. I also hoped to discover in its 
highlands a cool mountain locality fit for a summer station, 
a want much felt by those who winter in the south, and do 
not wish to return to England in the summer. 

On inquiry as to the means of reaching Corsica, I could 
gain but little information at Mentone. None of the. in- 



334 Corsica. 

habitants had ever been there, and they seemed to look 
upon it as a very inaccessible place, in a state bordering 
on barbarism. I therefore wrote to "the principal" book- 
seller at Bastia, the chief town, for a map and a local 
guide, and to Marseilles and Genoa for information about 
steamers. In due course I received the information applied 
for, and found, as usual, that every difficulty vanished. 
I also met with two very agreeable travelling companions, 
an English clergyman and his lady, with whom I left 
Mentone for Genoa April the 15th, 1862, by the beautiful 
Riviera road. Two English ladies subsequently joined us 
at Ajaccio. 

We entered Genoa on a lovely summer afternoon, and 
found the entire population out-of-doors in holiday costume. 
Genoa looked as beautiful and interesting as it always does 
in fine weather. The next morning I went to look after 
the steamer, which starts every Saturday at 9 p.m. for 
Bastia, touching at Leghorn. To my dismay I found that 
it was my old friend, or enemy, the Virgilio. I imagined 
it had, many years ago, been broken up, either by the 
winds and waves, or by the hand of man. There was, 
however, no help for it, no other boat went to Corsica, and 
to the Virgilio we had to' entrust ourselves. 

The weather was beautiful, the sky clear, the sea calm, 
the barometer at set fair, and this time the old boat slowly 
but surely performed her allotted task. We steamed 
quietly along the coast, sitting on deck, and enjoying the 
beautiful scenery until dark. Then we went down and 
slept until we reached Leghorn early the next morning, 
but several hours later than we should have done by one 
of the ordinary Leghorn steamers. After unloading cargo 
at Leghorn, and taking in passengers and goods, we again 
started at nine, and arrived safely at Bastia at five in the 
afternoon, the usual passage by a good steamer from 
Leghorn being five or six hours. 

The engineer was a short, stout, good-humoured coun- 
tryman of ours, and an interesting specimen of the philo- 
sophical roving Englishman. He was born and bred, he 
told me, at Liverpool, and had come to the Mediterranean 
sonre twelve years previous ; he had served in every part of 



THE VOYAGE TO CORSICA. 335 

that sea, and had never once been home. He had married 
an Italian woman, who lived with his children at Genoa. 
His pay was good, and, as he was quite comfortable and 
happy, he had no wish whatever to return to England, 
The Yirgilio was a good sea boat, and her engines also 
were good, but both were very old — he presumed at least 
thirty years. She was, he said, slow but sure, and safe in 
a storm, as, indeed, I had found her many years ago. 

On a fine warm summer's day, such as we were fortu- 
nate enough to enjoy on the 18th of April, with an all 
but calm sea, the passage from Leghorn to Bastia is very 
enjoyable. As the vessel recedes from the mainland, the 
fine marble mountains of Massa Carrara are the promi- 
nent feature. Then as they become indistinct, the island of 
Elba and the mountains of Corsica come into view. Elba, 
from the sea, appears merely a mass of rocks and mountains, 
with but little evidence of vegetation. Still it will ever be 
interesting to the traveller as the first prison home of 
Napoleon the Great. 

How singular his fate. Born and brought up in Corsica, 
he finally left it at the age of twenty- three. With the 
exception of a few hours passed at Ajaccio on his return 
from the campaign of Egypt (1799), he never saw Corsica 
again until, hurled from the height of human power, he 
was chained to this rocky islet, within view of his native 
land. Between these two epochs of his life, events all but 
unparalleled in history had taken place. He, the humble 
Corsican soldier, had been a great emperor, a king-maker 
and a king-destroyer, and had wielded the lives of men as 
if they had been mere sand on the sea-shore. Elba is the 
first land that vividly recalls to mind the great Corsican 
hero. From that moment his memory was scarcely ever 
absent from my thoughts. It pervades his entire native 
country, and is indestructibly mixed up with its past and 
present history. Indeed, it throws a kind of halo, if I may 
use the term, over the entire island. 

Two other islands are also passed, Capraja and Monte 
Cristo. They are both mere barren mountainous rocks, but 
healthy, and capable of being rendered very fertile by human 
labour under the life-giving southern sun. Capraja is cele- 



336 CORSICA. 

b rated in the past history of Corsica from having been for 
centuries a field of battle between the Genoese and the 
Corsicans. 

Monte Cristo, which has given its name to Dumas/ cele- 
brated novel, is a small, uninhabited islet, that attracted 
attention some few years ago through the adventures and 
misfortunes of its owner — one of our countrymen. This 
gentleman purchased the entire island, and settled upon it, 
in the regular Robinson Crusoe style, monarch of all he 
surveyed. He gradually brought a considerable area under 
cultivation, started a steamer of his own, and succeeded in 
establishing a flourishing little colony. Misfortune, how- 
ever, overtook him in the shape of the Italian revolution. 
Some Garibaldians, on their way to Sicily, landed in the 
island, and pillaged it. Our countryman's sympathies were 
with the Duke of Tuscany, those of the six soldiers and of 
the sergeant, their commander, who formed the island 
guard, were with the revolutionary side. They quarrelled, 
he was insulted, and left the island, and the complete ruin 
of the colony rapidly followed. Redress was sought in the 
Italian courts, but without success. The Government re- 
fused to recognise the acts of the lawless Garibaldians in 
this the early stage of their career, and the Elba magistrates, 
siding with the sergeant and his men, fined our unfortu- 
nate countryman for rebellion against the <c constituted 
authorities." 

The English Parliament was called upon to take the 
part of the English proprietor, but, after a long debate, 
the ministers refused to interfere between the parties. 
Thus ended an Englishman's dream of a little monarchy in 
the Italian seas. We have all of us, in our youthful days, 
longed for the possession of just such an island as Monte 
Cristo, and cannot but feel deep commiseration for the 
misfortunes of one who had thus bravely realized the boy's 
paradise. But is not the downfall of the little empire 
explained by the evident want of sympathy of the king of 
Monte Cristo for the popular Italian cause ? If so, he has 
fallen with the political party he espoused, with his friend 
the Duke of Tuscany. It is a political, an historical fall, 
and not a social one. 



THE ISLAND OF MONTE CRISTO, 337 

As Corsica is approached its alpine character becomes 
evident j it rises from the sea as a chain of mountains 
extending from north to south. At the basement little 
hamlets are seen, five hundred or a thousand feet above the 
sea-level, clinging to the wood-clothed mountain sides. 
The town of Bastia is not discovered until we are but a 
few miles from the coast ; it then appears as a cluster of 
white houses rising gently above the shore. 

We landed in a small and secure harbour, but so nar- 
rowed by the jetty that in bad weather the entrance is 
very difficult. Some years ago the mail steamer was lost 
through striking against this jetty in a stormy night, and 
forty souls perished, although within a few feet of the 
shore. As we rowed quietly in, for our steamer was going 
on to Porto Torres in Sardinia and had stopped out- 
side, the precise spot where the vessel had struck was 
pointed out to us. It was all but within the little harbour 
and so near land that it was difficult to understand the 
catastrophe. With the calm, smooth sea we then had, the 
entire crew might have jumped ashore. 

Another and larger port is now being constructed, to the 
north-east, by means of large blocks of artificial stone. 
These blocks are made on the spot, of immense size, and 
of any required form, and much facilitate the construction 
of piers and sea-walls. The new port of La Joliette, at 
Marseilles, has been made in this way. The construction 
of this harbour will be a great advantage to Bastia, the 
small port of which is now inconveniently crowded with 
shipping. 

The channel between Italy and Corsica is considered a 
smooth sea, for Corsica acts as a breakwater to the south- 
west and north-west; but still there is occasionally a very 
heavy sea in it, as I had experienced to my sorrow. This 
is more especially the case when south-west or north-east 
winds reign. 

Many years ago, in 1839, when resident medical officer 
in the Paris hospitals, I had a friend, a young Corsican 
physician, M. Piccioni, a clever, energetic man, whose pro- 
fessional prospects were even then considered very good. 
Our friendship shared the fate of many such youthful ties ; 



338 Corsica. 

we parted, he for his native country, I for mine, and never 
heard of each other again. As soon as we were comfort- 
ably settled in the Hotel de TEurope, an inn very similar 
to what we should find in a small French continental town 
out of the track of tourists, I inquired for the friend of 
former days. To my delight and surprise I found that he 
was alive, a flourishing, universally esteemed man, and 
actually living at Bastia. I had also a letter of introduc- 
tion to Dr. Manfredi, head surgeon to the Bastia hospital, 
and the leading operating surgeon of the island. We were 
most cordially welcomed, I and my companions, both by 
the old and new friend, and, thanks to them, ever after 
felt quite at home in the island. They transferred us to 
other friends and relatives at each successive sta^e of our 
progress, and as we were everywhere received with great 
cordiality, we prospered wherever our steps were directed. 

We remained some days at Bastia, exploring the town 
and its neighbourhood, and then went to San Fiorenzo. 
From thence we pursued our journey to Calvi, to Corte, 
and finally to Ajaccio, whence we embarked for Marseilles, 
having passed three weeks very enjoyably in the island. 
The weather was splendid from first to last, the mountains 
were ever pure in outline and free from clouds, the sky was 
blue, the sun shone brightly, no rain fell, and the country 
was in the glory of early summer, of poetical spring. 

I shall now endeavour to convey to my readers, as briefly 
as possible, the results of the experience gained during this 
excursion, as also during two subsequent tours made in the 
island in the spring of 1865 and in that of 1868. 

Corsica is the third largest island in the Mediterranean^ 
Sicily and Sardinia being both of greater size. It is 
situated between 41° and 43° of north latitude, and 
between 6° and 7° of east longitude. The distance from 
the coast of Italy is 54 miles, from that of France 90 ; its 
length is 115 miles, its greatest breadth about 54 miles. 
Corsica is a mere mass of alpine ridges rising out of the sea 
like a vessel; the mountains attaining the highest elevation 
in the centre. 

Two mountain ranges form the island, running longi- 



THE CALCAREOUS AND GRANITE MOUNTAINS. 339 

fu'dinally through it from north to south. The eastern 
range commences at Cape Corso, a narrow longitudinal 
mountain, some 3000 feet high, and more than 20 miles 
long, the base of which is bathed by the sea both east and 
west. This range is secondary, calcareous, and descends to 
the south at a moderate elevation. The second range is 
primitive, granitic ; it commences near the west coast at 
Isola Rossa, rises rapidly to a height of 8000 and 9000 feet, 
and runs through the island down to its southern extremity, 
to within a short distance of Bonifacio. 

The different geological nature of these two mountain 
ranges has, in the course of countless ages, modified the 
character of the eastern and western shores. 

The eastern range, composed, as stated, of secondary 
calcareous rocks, is more easily disintegrated and washed 
away by the action of the elements. Owing to this cause 
the rivers which descend from its sides, and from the central 
regions of the island, through clefts which these calcareous, 
mountains present, have deposited at their base alluvial 
plains of considerable extent. Through these rich alluvial 
plains several large streams meander to reach the sea. 
This they accomplish with difficulty, owing to the lowness 
of the shore, and to the prevalence of the scirocco or south- 
east wind, which constantly throws up large masses of sand 
at their mouths. Hence the formation along the eastern 
shore of large salt-water ponds and marshes, into which 
some of the rivers empty themselves. 

Under the burning glare of a Mediterranean sun these 
terrestrial conditions — large ponds of brackish water, 
marshes, and rich alluvial plains, liable to periodical over- 
flow — embody all the elements calculated to produce 
malarious fevers of the most deadly character, and by such 
fevers is this region rendered all but uninhabitable for four 
months, from June to October. 

The western, primary, granitic range of mountains is the 
real backbone of the island. It must have been thrown up 
long before the secondary eastern range, is very much 
higher, and is covered in some regions with eternal snow. 
This range is jagged and irregular in its outline. It throws 

z 2 



340 CORSICA. 

out high granitic spurs towards the western sea, which 
extend into the sea, and form deep bays or gulfs, as is usual 
with primary rocks. 

These spurs divide the western side of the island into 
deep, wide, picturesque valleys. At the bottom of each 
valley runs a brawling stream, which carries to the sea the 
watershed of the high snow-clad mountains, and forms an 
alluvial plain, of greater or less extent, as it nears the coast. 

Disintegration, however, during the geological period 
has been slow, owing to the granitic character of the 
mountains, and the rivers have carried less soil to the sea 
than those of the eastern or calcareous side of the island. 
The alluvial plains are, consequently, all but confined to 
the mountain valleys, and the sea is very deep near the 
shore. On this side of the island are all the natural ports, 
with the exception of that of Porto Vecchio on the south- 
east coast. Thus there are no ponds, the marshes are 
small in extent, limited to the immediate vicinity of the 
outlet of the rivers, and intermittent and remittent fevers 
in comparison are by no means so common. 

The spurs which limit the western valleys being very 
rugged and of great height, the peasants who inhabited 
them were all but cut off in former days from communica- 
tion with mankind, on every side but that of the sea. A 
coast road which ascends and descends the granitic ridges, 
has been recently completed from Bonifacio to Ajaccio, 
Porto, Calvi, Isola Rossa, and Bastia. As there is also a 
good road from Bastia to Bonifacio on the eastern coast, 
Corsica is now completely encircled by a carriage road 
connecting every region of the coast. 

Between the eastern and the western ranges of moun- 
tains there is a highland country, an elevated mediterranean 
area of mountains and valleys, which forms about one-fifth 
of the entire superficies of the island. 

The botanical productions of Corsica assimilate, as might 
be presumed, to those of the countries that surround it. 
The north, by its vegetation, approximates to the Riviera, 
the east to the Italian coast, the west to Provence and 
Spain, whilst the south, and I may say the entire island, 
shows decided African affinities. Indeed, in a subsequent 



THE CHESTNUT AND OLIVE TREES, 341 

survey of Algeria and Mount Atlas, I was rather surprised 
to find the vegetation of the granitic and schistic regions 
of the Atlas mountains all but identical with the vegetation 
of these same formations in Corsica. 

In the plains on the coast, cereals and Indian corn are 
grown in considerable abundance, and succeed admirably. 
The Mulberry tree, also, is cultivated in great perfection, 
and as the climate is suited both to its growth and to the 
rearing of the silkworm, there is a great opening in this 
direction for the Corsieans. On the lower cretaceous 
hills and valleys the Olive tree abounds and flourishes. 
The Vine is also cultivated with great success, and admi- 
rable wine is made, of rather a full-bodied character, 
especially on Cape Corso and about Sartene. Higher up, 
the Chestnut tree grows to a magnificent size, and produces 
fruit of the very best quality. Entire districts, especially 
on the eastern side of the island, are covered with splendid 
Chestnut forests. One of the eastern districts, indeed, 
having the little town of Piedicroce for its centre, is called 
the Castagniccia, or Chestnut country. It has ever been 
famous in history for the unconquerable intrepidity and 
love of freedom of its inhabitants. Throughout centuries 
of tyranny and oppression in Corsica they were never 
entirely subdued, and that principally owing to their 
Chestnut trees. Formerly, and even now, their main food 
is the Chestnut, with assistance from the oil of the Olive 
trees, the wine of the Vines, and the flesh and milk of 
their sheep. 

The Chestnut tree wants no cultivation whatever, no 
watching. Like the Bread-fruit tree of the tropics, it 
produces fruit that only requires gathering when ripe, and 
in this climate it never fails to produce a crop. Thus the 
inhabitants of the Castagniccia could fight all the year 
round and yet live. They might be hemmed in on all sides 
in their mountain fastnesses, all ingress might be stopped 
for years, and yet they flourished. These times have passed 
away, and since the end of the last century there has been 
peace in Corsica; still the inhabitants of the Castag- 
niccia retain their desultory habits. They live, I am told, 
in sober idleness, play at cards, talk politics all day, 



342 ," CORSICA. 

and work as little as they can possibly help. Their 
artificial modern wants, even, are easily supplied by the 
sale of the surplus chestnut crop, now rendered easy by 
the increased facility of communication with the Continent. 

The cultivation of the Olive tree on a large scale would* 
appear to engender the same apathy and disinclination to 
work on the part of the peasantry. There is a region 
called the Balagna, extending from San Fiorenzo to Calvi, 
comprising smiling limestone hills and lovely fertile 
valleys, which is a very garden of Olive trees. It is 
renowned throughout the island for its richness and for 
its luxuriant fertility. A leading proprietor informed me 
that the peasantry, all proprietors, led the same "far 
niente" life of easy enjoyment as their countrymen in the 
Chestnut districts. The Olive tree requires a little more 
trouble, it is true, than the Chestnut ; it has to be pruned 
and manured every year or two, the fruit has to be crushed, 
and the oil sold. Still all this, like the labour of the Irish 
cottier on his potato-ground, takes but little time. Every 
year or two an abundant, easily-earned harvest of oil pays 
off debts and leaves a surplus to live on until the next be 
ready. Why should he work, says the peasant, when his 
future is thus secure ? People cannot live, however, upon 
oil alone. It must be sold to maintain the grower, and 
owing to this reason, no doubt, the Balagna has from time 
immemorial been conquered and held by those who were in 
possession of the adjacent coast. 

There is a good carriage road from Calvi to Corte, which 
takes the traveller through part of the fertile smiling 
Balagna, and also, at a later stage of the journey, through 
interesting mountain scenery. A day diligence travels 
along this road every other day, and I have twice per- 
formed the journey, with even more pleasure the second 
time than the first. Sheltered by hilly mountains from the 
south-west sea winds, protected from the north and east, 
the Balagna appeared to me truly the abode of peace and of 
plenty, with its Olive and fruit trees, its Vines and Cereals, 
and its prosperous-looking villages, each with their quaint 
little church. The summer heat must be intense, as an 
evidence of which fact I measured an old Carouba tree a 






HISTORICAL STRUGGLES. 343 

"little beyond Ponte Veglia twenty-eight feet three inches in 
circumference, three feet from the ground ! On this 
journey I for the first time met with villages, all the 
cabins of which had flat roofs. Such a construction implies 
intensely warm summer nights, and an approximation to 
the East and to the customs of its inhabitants. 

Above the range of the Chestnut tree we meet with the 
Pin us Maritima, and above that, along with it in some 
regions, the Pinus Larix or Larch. This tree is a native 
of Corsica, and in no part of Europe does it grow to greater 
luxuriance and perfection. In some of the primitive forests, 
noble trees, more than 120 feet in height, are found. 
Above the Pines comes the Beech, then the Birch, and 
then the eternal snows. 

These details of physical structure explain the history 
of Corsica. As in most mountain regions of a similar cha- 
racter, for numberless centuries, from days anterior to 
those of the Romans, its inhabitants were at war with 
their neighbours, all of whom in succession tried to conquer 
them. The shores and shore-towns were successively in 
the possession of the Greeks, the Romans, the Saracens, 
the Spaniards, the Tuscans, the Genoese, and finally, of 
the French. But the mountaineers were never conquered. 
Alternately defeated or victorious, they ever maintained 
their independence. Conquerors, they drove the invaders 
from their native soil. Conquered, they retreated to their 
mountain fastnesses, to the primitive forests which still 
cover a considerable portion of the island, to the neigh- 
bourhood of the eternal snow. There, who durst follow 
them ? The attempt only brought destruction upon their 
pursuers. Such was ever the history of this small com- 
munity, then not numbering much above a hundred thou- 
sand souls ; as noble a race of free men as ever trod the 
earth. 

The history of Corsica is full of heroes, of heroic deeds, 
of romantic achievements. Each successive century bore 
patriots ever ready to sacrifice their fortunes and their lives 
for their country, as in the heroic days of early Rome. Nor 
were the opportunities for doing so wanting; no sooner 
was one enemy disposed of than another appeared. Peace 



344 Corsica. 

never lasted more than a few years, seldom as long; and 
each successive generation had thus to renew the struggles 
which had tested the courage, the patriotism, and the 
endurance of its precursor. 

Is it surprising that the names of these Corsican heroes 
should be household words ? that Giudice della Rocca, 
Giampolo, Sampiero, Paoli, and many others, should live 
in the affections of the Corsicans even unto- the present 
da} ? Is it surprising that the Corsican women should 
have imbibed and shown, in times now gone by, the stern 
patriotism of the women of Sparta? or that their "voceros," 
or chants and national songs, should, up to this day, breathe 
a spirit of defiance and a love of vengeance unknown to the 
inhabitants of more peaceful regions ? 

A population which has for so many centuries — indeed 
until quite recently — lived in a state of constant warfare 
against foreign tyranny and oppression cannot all at once 
calm down to the social condition of countries that have 
for centuries ceased to fight for their existence. Thus is 
explained the exceptional social condition that until very 
recently reigned in Corsica. 

The Genoese were, during the Middle Ages and until 
the latter part of the last century, the most persistent and 
cruel persecutors of Corsica. They established themselves 
in Corsica towards the end of the thirteenth century, and 
gradually gained possession of the coast towns and of a 
considerable portion of the island. War may be said never 
to have ceased from that time until the Corsicans surrendered 
themselves to France in June, 1769, two months only before 
the birth of Napoleon Bonaparte. 

In 1737 the Genoese, finding themselves hard pressed, 
applied to France for assistance. Cardinal Fleury gladly 
availed himself of the pretext to establish a footing in 
Corsica, and sent five regiments to their assistance. From 
that time the Corsicans had also to fight against France. 
They defended themselves desperately for thirty years, but 
at -last their great general, Paoli, was defeated, and they 
had to succumb. 

The father of Napoleon I. was a prominent member of 
the patriotic or anti-French party. He was private secre- 



PAOLL THE PATRIOT. 345 



tary to the celebrated chief Paoli at the time the capitulation 
was signed, and Corsica annexed to France. A few months 
later his wife gave birth to the great warrior and statesman 
who was to wield with such terrific energy the destinies of 
the French, whom his countrymen then looked upon as 
foreigners and conquerors. 

The great and patriotic Paoli, who for a quarter of a 
century had governed the Corsicans with the wisdom of a 
Solon and the courage of an Epaminondas, abandoned his 
native country when it became a mere province of France, 
and took refuge in London. There he lived for thirty years, 
in Holborn, a glorious exile from his sea-girt island home. 
When I gazed on the magnificent mountains, the beautiful 
clear sky of Corsica, and the glorious azure sea that sur- 
rounds it, I often thought of the sad exile of former days. 
How his heart must have yearned for his own native land 
in the fog and gloom of a London winter. He could have 
returned had he submitted to the rule of France, but this 
his patriotic soul would not stoop to. He preferred to 
live length of years an exile in a northern land, and there 
to die, away from the home of his fathers ! 

Paoli once returned, but only for a few years. When the 
French became republicans they were ashamed at having 
extinguished Corsican freedom, publicly apologized, recalled 
him in 1790, and placed him at the head of his countrymen. 
The latter soon tired, however, of republican tyranny, 
appealed to England, expelled the French, and positively 
annexed Corsica to England (1794). Paoli and his English 
friends soon became obnoxious in their turn. The Corsicans 
rose against them, returning to French allegiance, and the 
French dominion was again definitely established throughout 
Corsica in 1796. 

The generation of Paoli has long passed away. Mighty 
events — events that have shaken Europe to its very founda- 
tions, and totally changed the fortunes and future destiny 
of the nation that annexed his native country — have taken 
place. These changes may be traced in a great measure to the 
genius and to the Corsican tenacity of purpose of the son of 
one of Paoli's companions and friends. The Corsican cha- 
racter, however, remains the same. The love of freedom, 



346 Corsica. 

the firm resolve not to yield to authority against the dictates 
of conscience, still characterize the sons of Corsica. Corsican 
exiles within the last few years have reproduced the patriotic 
self-denial of Paoli. 

It is a question whether the Corsicans, with their indomi- 
table pride and individuality, would have submitted so 
completely to France, had it not been for the marvellous 
rise of Napoleon Bonaparte, their countryman. As I have 
stated, Napoleon was born a few months only after the 
annexation, and by the age of twenty-nine he was general 
of the army of Italy, at thirty he was first consul, and at 
thirty-four emperor. The national feeling is still very 
strong with the Corsicans, and I have often heard it said, 
half seriously, "It is Corsica in reality that has annexed 
France, not France Corsica/'' Every man, woman, and 
child in the island is proud of the first emperor, and ac- 
quainted with every detail of his life. The advent of the 
late emperor to the throne of France was hailed with 
a shout of delight and patriotic pride from one end of 
Corsica to the other, and nowhere has his dynasty more 
devoted adherents. Yet to the traveller, the country is 
more Italian than French. Except in the large towns, 
Italian, or an Italian dialect, is the principal language, and 
the features and manners of the inhabitants, like the vege- 
tation, are also decidedly Italian. 

The Corsicans complain rather bitterly that they are 
neglected by France and that the very great natural re- 
sources of the island are not developed as they might be. 
This reproach to me appears scarcely just. The first 
Napoleon, it is true, did but little for his native country, a 
very singular fact. As we have seen, although born and 
brought up in the island, which he constantly revisited 
during the first years of his military career, he never came 
to it again after his return from Egypt. Perhaps he was 
so totally absorbed by the Herculean duties that filled 
his career, as to have but little leisure to think of the 
material welfare of his native country. Perhaps he was 
disinclined to draw, in too marked a manner, the attention 
of the France he governed to his Corsican origin. On one 
occasion a decree was signed for. some important public 



THE VENDETTA. 347 

works at Ajaccio, but they were not carried out. This he 
only learnt years afterwards. When at St. Helena, his 
thoughts, however, reverted constantly to the mountain 
island that gave him birth. He often spoke of it, and of 
what he intended to have accomplished for its welfare 
and prosperity had he remained in power. 

Subsequent governments appear to have done for Corsica 
what they have done for other departments of France, 
perhaps even more. The French centralized system of law, 
education, and road-mating, has been generally intro- 
duced, and every facility given to the inhabitants to 
mentally improve themselves, and thereby to lay down the 
foundation of public prosperity. The roads that now con- 
nect the principal coast towns, and encircle the island, are 
excellent, as good as our high roads in England, even in 
the most wild and uninhabited regions. There also is a 
very good road intersecting the island from Bastia to 
Ajaccio. It passes over the two mountain chains, and 
through Corte, the ancient patriotic capital of Corsica. 
Various forest roads have been lately made, leading 
into the heart of the country, into the primeval forests 
which occupy the high central regions. 

The great impediment to the material progress of Corsica, 
up to a very recent period, has no doubt been the very 
abnormal social condition of the island. So peculiar and 
strange was this condition, so foreign to all modern notions, 
that it may be questioned whether the whole world could 
offer a parallel. The vendetta which characterizes it must 
sap at the root of all public enterprise and prosperity. 

The vendetta is a system of vengeance to the death 
which has existed for hundreds of years in Corsica, and 
which was, until recently, recognised and approved by 
nearly the entire community, including even the less 
enlightened ministers of religion. Its origin is obscure, 
but may be traced to the feuds and warfare that existed in 
the island, dividing the members of families and of com- 
munities, ever arming one against the other, to the weakness 
of authority, and to the difficulty of obtaining justice. 

All Corsicans carried firearms. If one man considered 
himself insulted by another in any way, however trivial 



348 Corsica. 

the grounds, he shot him. From that moment the family 
of the man killed was bound in honour to pursue the 
murderer, or in his default, some member of his family, 
and to retaliate blood for blood. This obligation de- 
scended from one member of the family to another, 
until it often ended in the all but entire destruction of 
both families. Villages, entire communities, would take 
up the quarrel of their members against other villages, 
other communities, and thus, in the absence of a public 
foe, they massacred each other. 

I was told by a very intelligent Roman Catholic priest, 
cure of a remote country village, that the greater part of 
these feuds originated in jealousy. The general feeling 
was that any insult offered to a woman ought to be 
washed in the blood of the offender, by her male relatives, 
husband, father, brother. This sentiment, he said, was so 
strong and general, that were the laws relaxed, there 
would be just as many assassinations as in former times, 
and, consequently, as many outlaws in the mountains. 
Indeed, if there was no male relative to avenge them, the 
Corsican women often revenged themselves. 

This latter statement was fully borne out by what I 
heard at Corte during one of my visits to Corsica. In 
April, 1865, there were three women in prison for killing 
their lovers. One, a fine young woman of twenty, of a 
good peasant family, shot her lover dead in the market- 
place of Corte, ten days before I arrived. He had de- 
serted her after promising to marry her, positively re- 
fusing to ratify his engagement. She was in prison, but 
my informant, one of the leading inhabitants of Corte, 
stated that her imprisonment was a mere form, and that 
she would be either acquitted or condemned to prison for a 
few weeks only. The entire community, himself included, 
thought her a very noble girl, who had served her base 
lover quite right. I subsequently heard that, as antici- 
pated, she had only been condemned to three months' 
confinement, as guilty of what we should call "justifiable 
homicide," 

This girl, in vindicating her honour, only followed the 
traditions of her country. Some years ago a young girl 



A VOCERO. 349 

of Ota, whose rather poetical name was Fior di Spina, or 
Hawthorn- flower, killed her lover for the same cause — his 
refusal to many her. One of her compagnons improvised a 
" vocero " or ballad, which I give below, both as illus- 
trating the feelings of the Corsican women on such occa- 
sions, and as a good specimen of the language spoken to 
this day. It will be perceived that it is thoroughly 
Italian. This vocero is published by M. Jean de la Rocca, 
in an interesting work entitled " La Corse et son Avenir. 5 '' 
1857. 

Vocero. 

" Stamane, in piazza d'Ota, 
T'hannu messu la courona 
Tissuta in oro ed in argento, 
Secondu la to personna, 
Dapu stu colpn di pistola 
Che in Corsica risona. 

" Arrivata da n su babu, 
Si vesti da grand' gnerriera, 
Carca di ferru et di piombn, 
Colla carehera e la tarsetta, 
Lu stilettu e la pistola, 
Dicendo : Oggi e u me sicretu, 

" Quest' avia un cuore d'un lione, 
D'una tigra allatata. 
Ila stesu lu bracciu colla pistola,, 
Ed in capu la sbarata, 
Dicendo : Anima infidele, 
La tu morte e preparata, 

" Deh I portatemi a Tallavo, 
Dove so i banditi piu fieri, 
G-iacomo e Santa Lucia, 
Questi cuori bravi e guerrieri, 
E con elli in compagnia, 
Girero boschi e sentieri." 

Literal Translation. 

" This morning, in the place of Ota, 
they placed on you the crown, 
woven in gold and in silver, 
according to (worthy of) your person, 
after this pistol-shot 
which in Corsica resounds. 



350 CORSICA. 

" Arrived at her Father's 
she dressed herself as a great warrior, 
loaded with iron and lead, 
with the cartouche-box and the tarsette, 
the stylet and the pistol, 
saying : To-day it is my secret. 

" She had the heart of a lion, 
of a tigress suckling. 
She extended the arm with the pistol, 
and on his head discharged it, 
saying: Soul unfaithful, 
your death is prepared. 

" Now ! take me to Tallavo, 
where are the banditti the proudest, 
Giacomo and Santa Lucia, 
those hearts brave and warlike, 
and with them in companionship, 
I will rove in the woods and paths." 

According to a French prefect quoted by Gregorovius, 
whose Travels in Corsica I can recommend as a most 
fascinating book, 4300 assassinations occurred in Corsica 
between the years 1821 and 1852, in a population of two 
hundred and fifty thousand. In the last two years of 
this period the number was three hundred and nineteen. 
The peasant scarcely cultivated his field, for fear of being 
shot whilst at the plough, and his life was often passed in 
tracking or avoiding a foe. The women, bred up in a 
savage sense of honour, urged their husbands and sons to 
these deeds of bloodthirsty revenge, sang wild songs of 
triumph iyoceros) over them if victorious, and equally wild 
songs of lamentation if they were killed. 

Many Corsicans in those days spent years of their life 
barricaded in their houses, which they durst not leave 
for fear of their pursuers. The story is told of one man 
who remained fifteen years thus barricaded in his dwelling 
without leaving it. One day he heard that his antagonist 
was away, and ventured to go out and cross the road, 
only to fall dead on the other side, shot through the body 
by an enemy who had waited fifteen years for him ! I 



THE VENDETTA. 351 

myself made the acquaintance at Isola Rossa' of a gentle- 
man, one of the leading proprietors of the island, who, a 
long while ago, actually lived for two years barricaded in 
the upper flat of a house in that town to avoid the " ven- 
detta/' An iron door on the staircase, through which he 
could shoot any one approaching, protected and separated 
him from his relentless foes. 

How could a country prosper under such circumstances ? 
The French Government never would take the chivalrous 
view of the Corsican vendetta, but declared from the first 
that a man shot under these circumstances was simply 
assassinated. If caught, he was tried, and either executed 
or sent to the galleys for life. This unpleasant mode of 
viewing the national point of honour in no way restrained 
the Corsican mind. They shot their enemies as before, 
and then retired to the mountains, where they could set 
the law at defiance, becoming banditti. At the commence- 
ment of the present century there were 1000 men in the 
mountains (a la montagne). The commandant of the gen- 
darmerie" at Ajaccio told me that in 1855 there were still 
three hundred. 

These men were not brigands, such as we used to meet, 
and still meet, in Italy, in Calabria, and elsewhere. They 
were " honourable men," who had vindicated their sense 
of honour, in accordance with the immemorial custom of 
their race, and with the approbation of the large majority 
of their countrymen. Once in the mountains, out of 
reach of the authorities, in the primitive forests of the 
Monte d'Oro, the Monte Rotondo, the Monte Renoso, or 
the Monte Inchudiue, they merely wished to live. They 
killed game, their friends and relations sent them supplies, 
the peasants and shepherds gave them food, and helped 
them to avoid their enemies, the soldiers and the gen- 
darmes. Thus they led a kind of wild, Robin Hood life ; 
seldom, if ever, attacking travellers, or doing harm to those 
who left them alone. I have been told that a traveller, not 
an enemy, might have gone among most of them with his 
pockets full of gold without fear. They would only have 
politely asked him for a small pecuniary contribution, if 



352 CORSICA. 

they wanted it. Some few, however, were less honourable, 
less easily satisfied, even in those days, and could not have 
been thus trusted. 

It was in vain that the French Government kept a regi- 
ment or two of soldiers in the island, and a large body of 
" moveable gendarmerie/'' accustomed to the mountains, 
and to mountain warfare. The vendetta was too deeply 
rooted in the minds of the Corsicans. The mountains 
were too inaccessible, and the population too favourable 
to these "honourable bandits/'' for them to be exter- 
minated from the land. In the year 1854, therefore/very 
extreme measures were adopted ; measures which seem 
very strange in our times as applied to a department 
of France, to the birthplace of the late imperial family. 

Two laws were passed by the French Chambers. By 
the one, the entire population was disarmed, and it was 
made penal to carry firearms, or arms of any description, 
for any reason whatever, even including the pursuit Of 
game; so that for many years there was no regular^sporting 
in Corsica. A landed proprietor could not take out a gun 
and shoot a bird or a hare on his own property, without the 
permission of the prefect. When this permission was asked, 
and granted, it was given for one, two, or more days, for a 
special district, under ihe name of a battue, and police- 
agents or gendarmes were required to be present. All the 
higher and well-informed members of the community cheer- 
fully acquiesced in the law, and surrendered their pleasure 
for the good of the community. This law was partially 
repealed in 1369. 

By the other law, the hi du recel, or law of concealment, 
all persons harbouring or assisting outlaws became liable to 
imprisonment. This law has been stretched in practice in 
a very singular and Draconian but very effectual way. If 
a man kills an enemy, and flies to the mountain, the autho- 
rities instantly seize and imprison his relatives, and keep 
them in prison until he be caught or have surrendered. A 
very remarkable application of it occurred during my first 
visit at Ajaccio. A bandit who had killed twenty- seven 
people in his life, principally gendarmes, and had been out 
in the mountains above thirty years, had for some time 



THE BANDITTI. 353 

"been lost sight of, and was supposed to have gone to Sardinia. 
He had recently reappeared, and had been seen in the vici- 
nity of Sartene, in the southern part of the island. As 
many as sixty of his relations and descendants were imme- 
diately seized and imprisoned, and were only released when 
it became quite evident that the old offender had again 
withdrawn from the island. 

Inhuman as this step may seem, it has been attended 
with the most beneficial results. These men of bronze, 
who killed an enemy as they would a noxious insect, whom 
no human or divine feeling could restrain from shedding 
blood, are fond fathers, sons, and brothers. They cannot 
bear to see their children, their fathers and mothers, 
brothers and sisters, permanently in prison, on their account. 
They either do not assassinate any longer, or they give 
themselves up to the authorities, and meet their punish- 
ment. There are now not more than two or three outlaws 
" a la montagne." Were, such a law passed and rigidly 
carried out in Italy, the country would soon be cleared of 
the banditti by which it is infested. 

The rigid application of the loi du recel cuts at the root 
of one of the chief causes that tended to keep up banditism. 
So far from a peasant family being disgraced by one of 
their members being " out in the mountain," it was, in 
some sense, an advantage to them. From that moment 
the family had allies who protected and assisted them in 
their feuds and quarrels. They furnished provisions, powder, 
information, and, on the other hand, they received assis- 
tance and protection from their bandit relative and his com- 
panions. The imprisonment of his relations deprived the 
bandit of the all but indispensable assistance he was re- 
ceiving, and transformed the members of his own family 
into very lukewarm sympathizers, if not absolute anta- 
gonists. 

A singular feature in the history of these outlaws is their 
attachment to their native land. They could easily get to 
Sardinia, which is only separated by a strait a few miles 
across, or they could take refuge in Italy. But the love 
of their native country is too strong. They prefer to lie 
out for years in the forests and mountains, to be tracked 

A A 



354 coesica. 

daily like wild beasts, without hope of pardon or of eventual 
escape, to taking refuge in another country. 

A commandant of " gendarmerie/'' whose acquaintance 
I made at Ajaccio in 1862 — a brave, open-hearted military 
man — had been ten years in the island, and they had been 
years of incessant warfare against the banditti. I heard 
many interesting details from him of the mountain warfare 
he had unceasingly waged — for such it is. He had several 
hundred men under him — all young, of great physical 
powers, and inured to hardships of every description. His 
attacks were principally made by night marches of twenty, 
thirty, or even forty miles, which enabled him to surprise 
his wary enemy. 

I expressed my astonishment that he was still alive, 
that he had not been assassinated, Corsican fashion, after 
so often leading his men in such desperate work — for he 
said he had sent scores to the galleys and to the guillotine. 
He replied that the explanation was in the fact that he 
had always treated the banditti as fair antagonists. He 
had waged honourable war against them, and fought them 
openly, as he would have done a military enemy. He 
had surprised them, and exterminated them when he could, 
but never with the assistance of treachery, which he de- 
spised and repudiated. So thoroughly convinced, he added, 
were the bandits of his honour, that were he that evening 
to write and make an appointment with the most 
notorious of the few remaining, they would not for one 
moment hesitate to leave their retreat, and to come and 
meet him in Ajaccio itself. 

One incident of the adventurous life of the worthy com- 
mandant deserves narration. He had been long pursuing 
a very desperate bandit, who had killed several persons, 
and had been in the mountain for many years, eluding 
all research. At last he heard that he was sleeping every 
night in a cavern, situated in a very wild and secluded 
district, high up in the mountains. By a night march he 
surrounded the cavern with a hundred and fifty men, and, 
certain of the outlaw's presence, summoned him to sur- 
render. Tue only reply was a couple of shots, which 
killed one of his men. He then determined to smoke him 



THE BANDITTI. 355 

ont, and commenced piling a heap of brushwood before 
the cavern; but before this could be half accomplished, 
two more of his men lay dead on the ground, shot through 
the body by his antagonist. Anxious not to sacrifice any 
more lives, the commandant determined to starve out the 
bandit, being aware that his stock of provisions and of 
•water was limited. He therefore drew round the cavern, 
which had only one issue, a double cordon of men in thj 
brushwood, and waited. 

For two days and two nights was this tiger- watch con- 
tinued. On the third night, towards morning, hunger 
and desperation prevailed, and the bandit made a sudden 
rush out of the cavern. Twenty guns were instantly 
levelled at him and fired, and he fell dead ; but not before 
he had had time to single out and deal a death-shot to 
one more of his enemies. Thus the destruction of tins 
man cost four valuable lives. This dramatic incident 
occurred only a few years ago. 

It was easy to see that the worthy commandant entered 
thoroughly into the spirit of his arduous career; indeed 
that he enjoyed it. His eyes sparkled whilst he told me of 
the long night marches, of the ambuscades, of the surprises, 
and of the manoeuvring, which form the main features of 
this mountain warfare. No doubt the excitement and un- 
certainty of this kind of campaigning has great charms 
for men fond of adventure. 

The difficulty of seizing an outlaw who is supported by 
the warm sympathy of the entire population, and is 
assisted by them in every way, has been well illustrated 
recently in Ireland. In a quiet, civilized country, where 
there are no primeval forests, no mountains covered with 
eternal snow, an elderly assassin eluded the pursuit of the 
entire police force for two years, and at last died of disease. 
His whereabouts was constantly discovered, but owing to 
the connivance and assistance of the peasantry he as con- 
stantly eluded his pursuers. 

The above facts appear to me sufficiently to account for 
the backward state of Corsica as regards its material de- 
velopment. It is the history of the Highlands of Scot- 
land 200 years ago — a people constantly fighting either 

A a 'Z 



356 CORSICA. 

against strangers or amongst themselves, and learning to 
look upon actual labour as derogatory. Such a social state 
is all the more easily accounted for when the material 
wants of life are few, the population sparse, the climate 
mild, and the soil so naturally fertile as to produce, all but 
without trouble, the actual necessaries of life. 

At last, however, the very vigorous measures adopted 
by Government are beginning to tell thoroughly on the 
social condition of the entire community, and security 
reigns where diffidence and alarm formerly existed. There 
can be no doubt, therefore, that the natural resources of 
Corsica will speedily be developed. The forests of Corsica 
contain timber as valuable as that which is imported into 
Europe from countries thousands of miles away, its wines 
are good, abundant, and cheap ; its mineral wealth is said 
to be great — lead, copper, and iron being found, I was 
told, in abundance, and with little labour. The island is 
now quite encircled and penetrated by good carriage roads, 
and regular and frequent steam communication exists 
between its principal ports — Bastia, Calvi, Ajaccio, and 
the French and Italian mainland. Capital and enter- 
prise are alone wanted,, and they are sure to make their 
appearance. 

Were Corsica an English possession, a dozen companies 
would be at work in a few months, but commercial enter- 
prise is slower in France. The French still look upon 
Corsica as a semi-barbarous country; the officials who 
hold appointments there consider themselves banished, and 
ever aspire after the time when they can return to France, 
to Paris. Scarcely any travellers, either French or others, 
ever visited the island, except on business, until my notice 
of it in the second edition of this work, in 1862, drew atten- 
tion to its great natural beauties. So much was this the 
case, that the advent of myself and companions was a matter 
of surprise and curiosity. What could possibly have 
led us there, was the question. Indeed, to explain my 
presence, I was invested by the public with " a mission 
to examine the climate and productions of Corsica." 

This isolation is, however, ceasing, and I am greatly 
gratified to think that I have been the means of sending 



VERY ACCESSIBLE TO TOURISTS. 357 

hundreds of my countrymen to this very beautiful island. 
In fact, in no part of Europe can a few weeks be spent 
more pleasantly in spring or autumn by the healthy tourist 
than in Corsica. In early autumn malaria is still too 
prevalent for pleasant and safe travelling ; but by the end 
of October it becomes quite safe. It may, with the 
greatest ease, be visited on the way to Italy, or on the 
return from the north of Italy. There is a steamer every 
week between Nice and Bastia, crossing in twelve hours. 
Two or three steamers run weekly between Bastia and 
Leghorn, in six or eight hours, a short and generally a calm 
passage. A steamer runs weekly from Marseilles, to each 
of the larger ports — Bastia, Caivi, and Ajaccio, returning 
forty-eight hours after arrival. 

The steamer, which leaves Nice every Wednesday evening 
for Bastia, returning on the Saturday evening following, 
renders the journey to Corsica a very easy one to all who 
winter on the Hiviera. To the Italian tourist who wishes 
to deviate from the beaten route it offers an opportunity 
of seeing the glorious scenery of Corsica without loss of 
time. 

Every Wednesday afternoon a large and commodious 
steamer for Tunis leaves Marseilles, reaching Ajaccio in 
twenty hours. From Ajaccio. to Bastia there is a diligence 
daily, and a very good road, which passes over the moun- 
tain chains, and through most beautiful Alpine and forest 
scenery . At Bastia the steamer for Leghorn takes the travel- 
ler on to Genoa. Another diligence also leaves Ajaccio every 
morning for Bonifacio. When the Sardinian railroad, now 
under construction, is completed, and there is regular sea com- 
munication between Bonifacio and the Sardinian coast, the 
traveller for Rome and Naples may diminish the sea journey 
by more than half, besides seeing some of the most beautiful 
scenery in Europe. Cagliari, in the south of Sardinia, where 
the railroad terminates, is only a few hours by sea from 
Civita Vecchia, from Naples, and from Palermo, in Sicily. 

To some classes of invalids, also, Corsica offers winter 
resources unknown before the publication of my Corsican 
researches. I was the first to point out, in 1862, that the 
exceptionally sheltered situation of Ajaccio, on the western 



358 Corsica. 

coast, renders it a suitable residence for invalids requiring 
a moister climate than that of the Genoese Riviera. 

Ajaccio (population 14,000) is unquestionably otfe of the 
most lovely spots in Europe. It is one of the most smiling 
little French towns I have seen anywhere ; not being 
cramped in by walls, it has spread itself out on the north- 
west side of a noble and picturesque bay, directed due south. 
At a distance of about twenty miles from the shores of this 
bay is seen a hemicircle of the majestic granite mountains, 
from six to nine thousand feet high, some of which, as we 
have seen, are capped with snow even in summer. The bay 
itself is as blue and as beautiful as that of Naples, although 
on a smaller scale ; and the town is protected from the north- 
west by a spur descending to the sea from the principal range. 
The vegetation of Ajaccio and the neighbourhood indi- 
cates a climate at least as warm as that of Cannes and Nice, 
perhaps even a shade warmer ; the Olive, the Orange, the 
prickly Pear, thrive with great luxuriance. In the principal 
street there is a double row of good-sized Orange-trees 
planted out in the soil, the effect of which is charming. 
They were healthy and full of flower on my first visit at 
the latter end of April, and embalmed the air. I fear, 
however, that they are in a fair way to be destroyed by an 
asphalt pavement, which has been foolishly placed over 
their roots, for they were not flourishing when I last saw 
them. The Lemon tree grows also, and bears fruit out of 
doors, but only, as at Nice, in very sheltered and very 
protected spots. It is evident that there are no prevailing 
winds, such as are felt on other parts of the coast, for the 
trees on the shores of the bay, east, west, and north, and in 
the neighbourhood of the town, grow perfectly straight. 
In other coast regions, at Isola Eossa, for instance, the trees 
near the shore are turned north-east, indicating the pre- 
valence of south- westerly winds. I have been told by 
nautical men that one of the features of the bay of Ajaccio 
is the absence of the strong winds that reign in the Medi- 
terranean during the winter, but the testimony of those 
who have spent the winter there proves that violent and 
long continued winds often blow from the south-west, 
especially in March. 



AJACCIO AS A WINTER CLIMATE. 359 

There is at Ajaccio a daily land and sea-breeze, which 
appears with the regularity of the tides in the Atlantic, 
and much facilitates the navigation of the bay. All the 
country boats, feluccas, and gondolas from the neighbouring 
districts go out to sea at night with the night breeze which 
descends from the mountains, and come in in the morning 
with the sea-breeze. 

The principal medical practitioner of Ajaccio, Dr. Versini 
— a well-informed old gentleman of seventy-five, now 
dead — and his son, who has succeeded to his practice, 
assured me that the climate was a healthy one. The only 
epidemic disease they suffered from was malarious fever in 
the latter part of the summer and early autumn, and that 
not in a severe form. Its attacks occurred principally 
when the wind blew from the mouth of two rivers that 
empty themselves into the bay on its eastern shore. They 
told me that severe cold was unknown in the winter, and 
that the weather was generally fine and sunny. Their 
statement was confirmed by General Sebastiani, brother of 
the marshal, one of the few surviving companions of Na- 
poleon, and a Corsican like him. The general had a resi- 
dence at Ajaccio, and had spent the winter there for many 
years. He stated that he had tried nearly every famed 
winter climate in Europe, but had found none superior to 
that of Ajaccio, and had consequently adopted it as a 
winter residence. I found him full of life and vigour, not- 
withstanding his advanced age, and a very agreeable com- 
panion. He showed me over a large well laid-out garden, 
which climbs the hillside behind his residence, in the 
middle of the principal street. The general has had the 
good sense to plant it principally with the shrubs and 
plants of the country, which makes it exceedingly interest- 
ing. With the care given to them they are all thriving 
luxuriantly, and a stranger is thereby enabled to compare 
cultivated with wild nature. 

Through the kindness of my friend Dr. Piccioni I was 
introduced to several families at Ajaccio, and their warm 
and cordial reception of me and of my companions, rendered 
our stay there additionally agreeable. I found everyone 
aware of the mild character of the winter climate of 



360 CORSICA. 

Corsica, and anxious that it should become known to 
strangers. 

There is a beautiful drive on each side of the bay, ex- 
tending for some miles, which is being improved and ex- 
tended. Several separate villas have been built and 
furnished above the commencement of this road for the 
accommodation of strangers, These villas are large, well 
distributed, and comfortable; they are furnished as well 
as they would be in Paris or in Nice, and are quite adapted 
to the requirements of a good-sized family. The rents are 
4000 or 5000 francs, 160/. or 200/. for the winter season, 
according to the size. There is one, a perfect little palace, 
built by a late " receiver-general" for his own use,- which 
was to let when I was there. 

With the exception of the recently erected villas 
strangers will find as yet but little accommodation in the 
town. There are several hotels, neither very clean nor 
very good, but where travellers may manage to get on for 
a short time. Better hotels, however, are promised. The 
Hotel de France is the pleasantest, from its looking out on 
a fine square, or place, near the sea. 

Between my first and last visits to Ajaccio, a period of 
six years, I found that evident improvement had taken 
place in many respects, and I do not question but that 
eventually the wants and requirements of northern in- 
valids will be so provided for as to render Ajaccio a safe 
and pleasant winter residence for those who require a 
moister atmosphere than that of the north shore of the 
Mediterranean. All islands must be, and are, moister than 
the mainland, and Corsica is no exception to the rule,, for 
every wind that blows comes over the sea. It is this 
feature, however, mild moisture, that constitutes the pecu- 
liarity of the Corsican climate, the peculiarity which renders 
it suitable to some forms of disease. In Ajaccio, I believe, 
we find, to a certain extent, the mildness and moisture of 
Algiers without having to cross the entire width of the 
Mediterranean to reach it. 

The year before the'war, 1868-9, there were a consider- 
able number of English and Germans at Ajaccio, and the 
accounts I received were very variable, and difficult to con- 






AJACCIO AS A WINTER CLIMATE. 361 

ciliate. It strikes me, however, that there was the general 
feeling of dissatisfaction with the accommodation and sup- 
plies, which is usual in a young colony, and which time 
will modify, as the resources of the place are improved. 
It was so at Mentone during the early years of my resi- 
dence there; complaints about food and accommodation 
were loud and numerous. I am also of opinion that some 
of the dissatisfied members of the community ought never 
to have gone there at all. They went, on their own re- 
sponsibility, to a mild, rather moist and relaxing climate, 
when they should have gone to a mild, dry, bracing 
climate, such as that of the Riviera or of the east coast of 
Spain. Several medical friends have passed the winter 
at Ajaccio. One, a few winters ago, was quite satisfied, 
and spoke in warm praise of the climate. Another at 
first thought and stated that he had found the pearl of 
pearls, the real Eldorado, but he has since then repudiated 
his previously published opinions. Dr. Pietra Santa, one of 
the private physicians of the late French Emperor, was sent 
to Ajaccio in January, 1863, subsequently to the publication 
of my work, to investigate scientifically its climate, and 
has written an account, founded on a four months'' resi- 
dence, altogether favourable. 

Dr. Bierman, an intelligent German physician, now 
practising at San Remo, who had settled at Ajaccio before 
the war, and who ministered several winters to the health 
of his countrymen, states that he was quite satisfied with 
his winter experience, that the climate more than answered 
his expectations, and that his countrymen did very well. 
Germans, as a rule, are much more easily satisfied as regards 
the comforts and elegancies of life than the English. Thus, 
they probably contrived to be comfortable and happy, 
although the English standard of comfort, and the expen- 
diture it entails, had not been reached. When the new 
hotel now in contemplation has been erected, which I am 
told will soon be the case, and the expenses of living have 
increased in proportion to the advantages gained, as they 
always do, our countrymen will probably be more contented. 

The war between France and Germany arrested the 
advent of German invalids, who were beginning to adopt 



362 Corsica. 

Ajaecio as a winter residence in yearly increasing numbers, 
and they have not returned. Indeed the war proved a 
great check to the budding prosperity of Ajaecio — a check, 
however, from which it is rapidly recovering. Many im- 
provements have been made within the last two or three 
years. New houses have been built, good water has been 
brought to the town, and a handsome boulevard has been 
made along the sea shore. Several members of the English 
community have bought land in the vicinity of the town, 
and, on the whole, an era of progress and prosperity appears 
to have commenced. 

In conclusion, I would advise no invalid who peruses 
these pages to fix his winter abode at Ajaecio without 
placing the above facts before some trustworthy physician. 
I would also advise no one to winter there as yet until 
better hotels have been established, and better fare be 
attainable, who is really very ill, who requires great 
comforts and very choice food, or who has never travelled 
on the Continent, and is totally unaccustomed to conti- 
nental habits and diet. Those who do go must still look 
upon themselves as pioneers of progress, helping to open 
out and clear up a partially -known country for the benefit 
of those who follow as well as for their own. All such 
pioneers run a little risk, and in that very risk, generally 
speaking, lies the chief charm. 

At Ajaecio there is a nucleus of very good society, both 
Corsican and French. There are the prefet, the judges 
and magistrates, the officers of the garrison, the leading 
engineers, and the resident native families. All appeared 
to be most amicably and cordially disposed to strangers. 
To crown the whole, there is a very tolerable Italian opera 
company throughout the winter season, and the subscrip- 
tion for one of the best boxes, holding six, is only about 
ten pounds. 

A great and mysterious charm about this little 
southern town is its having been the birthplace of Napo- 
leon. It was here that he spent his childhood and 
his early youth, until, at the age of fifteen, he entered 
the Military School of Brienne. As I have stated, he 
returned yearly to Ajaecio to pass the vacations in the 



napoleon's birthplace at ajaccio. 363 

bosom of his family, and was mixed up with all their 
feuds and Corsican feelings until fairly launched in his 
great military career. Then leisure ceased for the great 
man. His mind was ever full of ambitious and grandiose 
plans, his time and thoughts ever engrossed by their 
fulfilment. His quiet little native town and his Corsican 
nationality passed into the background, only to be fully 
remembered when chained to another island — the ocean 
rock of St. Helena. His family followed his wonderful 
fortunes — his brothers to become kings, his sisters to 
marry princes. 

Our first visit the day after we arrived at Ajaccio was 
to the house of the Napoleon family, in which the hero 
was born. It is a good-sized, comfortable house, situated 
in the very centre of the town, looking out on a small 
court or garden, and so surrounded by taller houses that 
there is no view of the sea or mountains from the windows. 
Its size and position show what we know to be the case — 
that Napoleon's parents must have belonged to one of 
the leading families of Ajaccio. The house has been 
renovated by the late emperor, the old family furniture 
has been sought out and brought back, and everything has 
been replaced as much, as possible in the same position 
as when the rooms were occupied by the Bonapartes in 
former days. Thus every article of furniture and decora- 
tion is a souvenir. The bed in which Napoleon was born 
is seen in a room on the ground-floor, as also the room 
and bed he occupied during vacation visits to his home 
when grown up. The house was shown to us by an old 
female servant of the family, who knew and attended 
Madame Letitia, Napoleon's mother, up to the time of her 
death. 

There is an old and rather handsome church, called the 
cathedral, very near the family mansion, which no doubt 
is exactly in the same state as when he was daily taken 
to it as a child by Madame Letitia. I was at Ajaccio on 
the 5th of May, the anniversary of Napoleon's death, and 
attended a mass given to his memory, at which all the 
notabilities of the place were present. As I sat listening 
to the solemn strains of the organ, I could not help fancy- 



364 CORSICA. 

ing I saw the future emperor as a child, kneeling at his 
mother's side, in the very place where he, no doubt, had 
really knelt hundreds of times. All was changed, all 
were gone who then lived, but the old church remained as 
in former days. 

Ajaccio is full of the memory of Napoleon. While 
sauntering through its quiet, sunny streets, with the beau- 
tiful bay and mountains generally in view, I could not help 
thinking that for years his steps had trodden the same 
ground, as a wild, impulsive child, and as a restless, 
ambitious youth. The contemplation of the grand natural 
beauties that surrounded him, and the constant brooding 
over the history and misfortunes of his native country, no 
doubt contributed to build up the rugged, indomitable 
character that he afterwards showed. 

The late emperor, and especially his cousin Louis 
Napoleon, had strong Corsican sympathies. The latter 
has an estate near Calvi, which he frequently visits for 
shooting. Under their auspices, the town of Ajaccio is 
beginning to show that it really is the birthplace of the 
present imperial dynasty. A very chaste and beautiful 
marble chapel has been built as the mausoleum of several 
members of the imperial family. A museum and picture 
gallery has also been erected, and is a fine monumental 
building. In it I saw, carefully arranged, a large gallery of 
paintings left to Ajaccio by Cardinal Fesch, which had long 
been stowed away in lumber rooms. Some few are good, 
but the greater number are very second rate. 

The names of the streets and squares are essentially 
Napoleonic, being mostly derived from some member of 
the imperial family. In the market-place, behind a hand- 
some stone fountain, is an allegorical statue, said to be 
meant for Napoleon. One side of this market-place, which 
looks on the bay or gulf, is bounded by a solid granite 
quay, that enables small vessels to moor close to land. This 
market-place is flanked by tall, well-built houses on one 
side, and by the town-hall on the other — a very respect- 
able structure. On each side is a double row of hand- 
some plane trees. The view of the blue bay, with its 
hemiciicle of grand mountains in the distance, is in- 



AJACCIO AS A WINTER RESIDENCE. 365 

describably beautiful from this point. This magnificent 
bay is protected from all winds but the south-west, and in 
its western or upper region there is a mole or jetty which 
gives the requisite protection even against this wind. 
More important works are in contemplation, and Ajaccio 
is to be made, ere long, one of the finest and most sheltered 
ports in the Mediterranean. A jetty is about to be thrown 
out from a rocky point projecting into the bay, that will 
protect the anchorage, now exposed to a heavy swell from 
the south-west. 

In the Grande Place, facing the sea, has been placed a 
fine equestrian statue of the first Emperor Napoleon, sur- 
rounded by those of the "four kings/'' his brothers. These 
statues were erected by a national subscription, and were 
inaugurated by Prince Napoleon a few days after one of my 
visits to Ajaccio (1865). I much regretted not being able 
to remain for the ceremony. 

Ajaccio is the only town of Corsica that appeared to me 
thoroughly eligible as a winter residence. Perhaps I might 
except Bastia, but I do not think Bastia is without objec- 
tions. The climate is evidently exceptionally warm, for 
the valleys of Cape Corso in the immediate vicinity of the 
town contain Orange and Lemon trees, the hill sides are 
covered with large Olive trees, and Lycopodium grows in 
all moist situations. But Bastia must be exposed, from its 
situation, both to south-east and north-east winds. Even 
the south-west wind blows with great fury at times during 
the winter, passing over the mountain ridge that separates 
Bastia from the Gulf of San Fiorenzo, 1500 feet high, and 
falling on the eastern side with such violence as to cut off 
the heads of cereals, to carry off the roofs of houses, and to 
confine the inhabitants of the town to their houses. Then 
there is a small, tideless port, which is so closed in that the 
water becomes nearly putrid, and no part of the town in its 
vicinity would be eligible. 

There is, however, a row of new, handsome houses on 
the priucipal " Place/' facing the sea, which would con- 
stitute a very eligible residence if accommodation in them 
could be obtained, which I doubt, as they are all occupied by 
the leading Bastia families. The view of the sea from these 



366 Corsica. 

houses is very beautiful, with the three mountain islands of 
Capraja, Elba, and Monte Cristo rising out of the waters 
at a distance. Other houses, however, are being built in 
the same locality. There is a small but clean and tolerably 
comfortable hotel— the Hotel de PEurope— on the Grande 
Place, which is without question the best in Bastia. 

Bastia is the most thriving, populous, and commercial 
town in Corsica. A considerable amount of shipping yearly 
enters and leaves its port, and there is more enterprise and 
activity shown by its inhabitants than by those of any other 
part of the island. This is explained by its proximity to 
Italy, with which Corsica has always been intimately con- 
nected, and also by the fact that Bastia is the port for an 
extensive range of fertile country, and for the greater part 
of the eastern division of the island. Ajaccio has scarcely 
any commerce, and is only the natural outlet of one or two 
of the valleys comprised between the spurs or western 
buttresses of the central granite range. Bastia must, there- 
fore, ever be the principal commercial port of Corsica, and 
Ajaccio, although the government capital and capable of 
being made a magnificent harbour, will always occupy, 
commercially, a second-rate position. 

The drive along the road at the foot of the Cape Corso 
mountain, which extends from Bastia quite round the cape, 
is very lovely. On one side the blue Mediterranean, on the 
other the mountain, the gentle slopes of which are covered 
with Olive trees. Every ^ew miles a ravine opens out, and 
in the upper part of this ravine, luxuriantly fertile, is always 
seen a village, enlivening the sides of the mountain with its 
church and its white houses grouped in picturesque disorder. 
Each of these villages has its marina, or little port, on the 
shore. About six miles from Bastia, on this road, is one of 
the most interesting limestone stalactite caverns in exis- 
tence — that of Brando. It may be recommended to visitors 
as an agreeable excursion. 

The mountain of Cape Corso and its ravines have a great 
local reputation for their wines. My friends at Bastia 
repeatedly excited my envy by the choice specimens of 
these unknown wines that they offered me. Of late years 
but little has been made, owing to the ravages of the 



BASTIA — CAPE CORSO ROAD. 367 

oidium, which the Corsicans were long unable to conquer. 
But new Vines are now being extensively planted every- 
where throughout Corsica, to replace those that have been 
destroyed by disease, so that in a few years large quantities 
of good wine will be again made, both in the Cape Corso 
region and in others. 

In the southern regions of Corsica the o'idium is still 
unknown, and perhaps the best wine of Corsica is still pro- 
duced there in considerable quantity, the Vin de Tallano. 
This wine is made in the vicinity of Sartene, the best by 
M. Giacomoni, at St a . Lucia di Tallano, and is really 
good. It resembles a full-bodied Burgundy, although it 
has a peculiar rich flavour of its own, has a great reputation 
in Corsica, and was much drunk by the first Napoleon and 
by his family. 

On the north-eastern extremity of Cape Corso a valley 
opens out, rather wider and more fertile than those pre- 
viously passed. Through this valley a road has recently 
been carried over the mountains, at an elevation of 2000 feet, 
which, descending on the western side of the Cape, soon 
reaches the village of Pino, the native place of my friend 
M. Piccioni. We started from Bastia one forenoon, and by 
dinner-time reached his ancestral domain, an old square 
fortified castle. In this castle his progenitors have lived 
for above 400 years. The next day was devoted to wander- 
ing about the picturesque old village perched a thousand 
feet above the sea, which lay smiling at our feet in one of 
its placid moods, merely fringing the rocks, the precipitous 
coves, inlets and bays with a thin margin of white foam. 
Wherever we went I saw evidence of an enlightened 
impulse, given by a master mind — evidence that the 
enthusiastic and patriotic feelings of my friend were a 
reality, that an oft-repeated quotation of his from 
Metastasio — 

" Ad ogni cuore ben nato quanto la patria e cara," 

was with him a true heartfelt sentiment. Roads had been 
made, houses erected, the mountain side covered with new 
plantations ; in a word, there was progress on every side. 
One of the visits I made with my friend was one that I 



368 CORSICA. 

shall not easily forget. It was to the Roman Catholic priest, 
who, said M. Piccioni, was a true Christian, a great friend 
and ally of his in all good works, and in all attempts to 
improve the intellectual, moral, and social state of the 
surrounding villagers. 

We found the priest a tall, intelligent, fresh-looking, 
gentlemanly man of about forty, with a kind, good-natured, 
simple expression of countenance. He was in the garden 
of a little square stone house that had been recently erected 
for him in a most picturesque situation. I never saw a man 
more pleased with a new residence. He showed us his 
vegetables and his flowers, and all the simple, naked rooms 
of his presbytery, which he clearly thought a palace. We 
had to sit down opposite each window to admire the view, 
the effects of rock, mountain, sea, and clouds, to all of which 
he very particularly drew our attention. Then we were 
invited to partake of some refreshment, and had to drink wine 
he had made from his own vintage and to eat bread made from 
corn grown on the mountain side. We talked firstly about 
the schools, and the sick poor, respecting whom my friend 
inquired. By degrees the conversation glided on to Seneca's 
Tower, which is just above the village of Pino, and from that 
into old classical times. I soon found that he was a sound 
classic, had read and re-read all the Latin poets and histo- 
rians, and was indeed much more familiar with classical 
literature than we were. He had been educated in a semi- 
nary in the island, had never been out of it, and would 
probably live and die a poor village priest, in an out-of-the- 
way hamlet at the extremity of Cape Corso, far from the 
world and its vanities. But he was happy, quite happy, he 
said, with his modest duties, his library, his old classical 
friends, his musings on human nature, the same from age 
to age, and his little garden and glebe. I was sorry to leave 
him at last. M. Piccioni told me that there were very many 
such as he throughout the length and breadth of Corsica, 
good and true men, intellectual as well as pious, living 
thus in the present and the past, and humbly doing their 
duty. I myself have met others in Corsica, in very out-of- 
the-way places, of the same type, truly good men — men to 
be respected — for when faithful and true, do not such men 



BASTIA — SENECA'S TOWER 369 

really sacrifice all earthly affections and ambitions to their 
ministry ? 

The solitary tower to which tradition gives the name of 
Seneca's Tower is nearly at the summit of the mountain 
above Pino. This Roman philosopher, subsequently the 
master of the infamous Nero, was exiled to Corsica by 
Claudius, and passed eight years in the island. Seneca, 
although a stoic, did not bear his punishment with forti- 
tude. He has left records of his sojourn in Corsica in the 
shape of anathemas against the " wild and barbarous land^ 
to which he was exiled, and of fawning supplications to his 
imperial master to restore him to favour. He seems to 
have had little power of appreciating the splendid scenery 
and the beautiful climate in which he passed these years of 
exile. His thoughts were ever on the blandishments of 
imperial Rome, to which he eventually returned, to become 
the master of Nero. There the stoic became a court 
favourite, and amassed a large fortune in a few years. 
Then he had not only to surrender his newly- acquired 
riches, but life, to his tiger pupil. He had better have 
remained an exile even in the lonely Pino tower, in abhorred 
Corsica. 

There is at Bastia — an important fact for travellers — a 
thoroughly well-informed and experienced medical prac- 
titioner, Dr. Manfredi, the surgeon of the civil hospital. 
He is a skilful operator, and occupies a leading position as 
such in Corsica. The all but uniform success that, accord- 
ing to my surgical informants, attends surgical practice at 
Bastia and elsewhere, speaks greatly for the general healthi- 
ness of the climate, as well as for their skill. 

Dr. Manfredi was educated in Paris, and has now been 
practising as an operating surgeon in Corsica for mere 
than thirty years. The difference between surgery in Paris 
and surgery in Corsica was, he told me, perfectly marvel- 
lous. Nearly all surgical wounds heal at once by first 
intention, and purulent absorption is all but unknown. 
He has had many cases of lithotomy, and has been success- 
ful in all. Indeed, he said he had such reliance on surgical 
cases doing well, that there was no operation in surgery 
that he should hesitate to attempt. On hearing this state- 

B B 



370 CORSICA. 

ment, I concluded that it is all but worth while to go to 
Corsica expressly to be operated on, in case of dire need. 

About thirty miles south of Bastia, in the midst of the 
Castagniccia, or Chestnut country, in the centre of a high- 
land region formed by spurs of the limestone chain of 
mountains, is a mineral spring called Orezza, the waters of 
which are renowned all over Europe. It is a strong 
chalybeate, loaded with carbonic acid. This spring is of 
inestimable value in a country like Corsica, in which the 
principal disease the inhabitants have to contend with is 
" malaria fever," or intermittent fever, in its more aggra- 
vated forms. The spring is leased to the Vichy Company, 
who have recently built an hotel and a regular bath esta- 
blishment. A few hundred feet above the principal spring 
is another, which combines iron and sulphur, and is very 
valuable in chronic cutaneous diseases. 

Dr. Manfredi kindly took me with him to visit the 
springs and this part of the island, and our excursion 
proved most interesting. The village of Orezza, or the 
greater part of it, is the doctor's patrimonial estate, and he 
possesses there a manorial fortified house, which I inhabited 
during our stay, and which I examined with much interest. 
The outer walls are of great thickness, composed of massive 
stones simply superposed, and they bear the trace of the 
strife of past days, bullet marks and smoke. During the 
hundreds of years that it has been inhabited by the 
ancestors of Dr. Manfredi, it has many times been attacked 
and besieged, and repeated but vain attempts have been 
made to destroy it by fire. The village is situated 2000 feet 
above the sea, and 500 above the mineral spring. From 
the terrace before Dr. Manfredi's house, I counted twenty 
villages perched on the summit of as many hills, all in 
situations capable of being defended. 

Orezza is one of the regions that was never conquered 
by Corsica's foreign foes. Surrounded by mountains in 
every direction, the sides of which are covered with mag- 
nificent and very productive Chestnut trees, it has always 
maintained a numerous warlike, patriotic, freedom-loving, 
and very idle population, delighting in the noble art of 
war. It is a part of the Terra del Comune of the Corsican 



OHEZZA — ENGLISH SYMPATHIES. 371 

historians. It was by the sons of this district, principally 
that the last battles for freedom were fought against the 
Genoese, and latterly, against their allies, the French. 

The priest, or cure, and the mayor of the village dined 
with us. I was charmed by their simple cordial manner, 
and surprised by their knowledge of the political history 
of Europe, and by the great interest they took in every- 
thing that was English. This, I found from my host, was 
explained by the incidents that occurred at the close of the 
last century. As I have already stated, during the last 
struggle of the Corsicans, under their glorious chieftain 
Paoli, from 1794 to 1796, they had the warm sympathy 
and partial assistance of England. Hence, in this region, 
the last to succumb to French rule, then considered a 
foreign tyranny, there still lingers a grateful remembrance 
of England, and of the support she gave them in their 
extremity, although that support was scanty and in- 
efficient. England had then many foes to contend with, 
and other duties ; so that, although the nation enthusias- 
tically responded to the call of the heroic Corsicans, but 
little active aid could be given. Several members of my 
host's family long remained in the English service, in the 
Corsican Rangers, after the annexation of their country to 
France had taken place. 

The mineral spring issues in great abundance from a 
circular well in the centre of an open building on a small 
mountain terrace, planted with trees as a promenade. It 
sparkles like champagne on reaching the surface, and is 
pleasant to the taste. A number of men and women were 
bottling it, and packing the bottles in cases for exportation 
to the Continent, where there is a large sale. This chaly- 
beate, Dr. Manfredi told me, combined with the pure 
mountain air, is a perfect panacea for the ansemic condi- 
tion which accompanies and follows severe attacks of in- 
termittent fever. Thus, said he, Providence has placed 
the antidote near the disease. It is also most valuable in 
cases of chlorosis, or debility from whatever cause. 

Many of the upper classes from Bastia and the north- 
east of Corsica pass the hot summer months here ; partly 
to take the waters of Orezza on health grounds, and partly 

bb2 



372 CORSICA. 

to escape the great beat of the shore region. They locate 
themselves, in a primitive fashion, at the houses of the 
wealthier peasants in the numerous mountain villages. At 
an elevation of 2000 feet the nights are always cool, and 
the days, although warm, are said to pass pleasantly under 
the cool shade of the Chestnut trees. To those of our 
countrymen who wish to spend the summer in Italy, I 
think the mountain retreat of Orezza might offer a valu- 
able resource, although I consider the summer heat still too 
great for consumptive or debilitated patients. 

In these mountain villages they would find simple but 
comfortable accommodation. I myself visited several of 
the houses where " lodgings" are let in the summer, 
and was surprised to find how neat and clean and com- 
fortable they were. The months of May and June might, 
at least, be profitably spent at the Orezza springs by 
those who wish to combine mountain air with a course of 
chalybeate waters before returning to the north. Several 
of my friends and patients have done so, and have been 
delighted with their " month in the mountains/'' with the 
beauty of the scenery, with the cordial simplicity of the 
mountaineers, and with the results of the mineral water 
treatment- 
Awaking early the morning after my arrival at Dr. 
Manfredi's hospitable mountain home, and looking out, I 
saw a crowd of peasant men and women, dressed in their 
Sunday best, perambulating the terrace beneath the window. 
On inquiring of a member of my host's family the meaning 
of the assemblage, I was told that they were peasants who 
had heard of the doctor's arrival, and were come to consult 
him ! When he came in for breakfast, I found that he 
had been busy from six o'clock ministering to their wants; 
" a few words of advice or consolation/' he said, " was all 
they required. Although anxious and delighted to be of 
use, the extreme confidence of his fellow countrymen was," 
he said, " a sad hardship. As soon as his arrival at Orezza 
became known, they always flocked in from the sur- 
rounding villages in such numbers as positively to besiege 
the house, and to drive him back to Bastia in despair." 
The key, however, to this friendly persecution, was evi- 



THE RETURN ROADSIDE PATIENTS. 373 

dently the kind philanthropic spirit and the great local 
reputation of Dr. Manfredi. 

As we returned home we were repeatedly stopped by 
u patients" waiting for us on the roadside,, enamelled with 
purple Cyclamen and white Asphodel. They had heard 
that the doctor had been seen on his way to Orezza, and 
were waiting his return. One case I well recollect. A 
poor, thin, pale-faced young man was sitting on a chair, 
at the roadside, with several relatives around him; signs 
were made to us to stop, and the case was forthwith inves- 
tigated. The patient held up to our notice a knee swollen 
to three or four times its natural size, and bearing the 
evidence of wo ful disorganization in the joint. Dr. Man- 
fredi shook his head, and said to him, " My poor friend, 
all treatment would be unavailing ; to save your life the 
limb must come off. Come to my hospital, and you shall 
have a bed." The poor fellow's white lips quivered, and 
he merely answered, " I will come." We then ascended 
our light carriage, and left him sitting on his chair in 
the road, and surrounded by his sympathizing relatives. 
I heard later that he did enter the hospital, had his leg 
amputated, and is now a healthy young man, although a 
cripple. Throughout this journey I felt that my friend's 
position and mission in remote Corsica was a very glorious 
one — one that bore with it its own reward, and made up for 
many of the anxieties and heartaches that are inseparable 
from our arduous career. * 

We stopped to breakfast at a roadside inn, where we 
were very cordially received, more as friends than as pay- 
ing guests. Here we had more patients to see, both before 
and after our repast. As we were sitting down, a thin, 
wild-looking, dark-complexioned man, of about thirty-five, 
came in, and was introduced to me as a brother practi- 
tioner. I afterwards learnt that he was a member of some 
Italian medical college, and that he practised in the neigh- 
bouring villages. His coat was old and threadbare, his 
shirt had not been changed for many days, and his hands 
spoke not of daily ablutions ; and yet there was something 
in him that bespoke a refined, cultivated, intellectual 
nature. 



374 coesica. 

Whilst Dr. Manfredi was seeing his patients, my new- 
acquaintance and I sat down on a log on the roadside, and 
discoursed of many things. I found his medical ideas 
often wild and visionary in theory, but practically he 
appeared to have gained considerable experience of disease. 
Then he revealed himself to me as a poet, frantically 
fond of Corsica, his native country, and full of patriotic 
and poetic fancies about its mountains, its valleys, its 
climate, and the highlanders, his countrymen. Half an 
hour passed rapidly, and I was sorry to take leave of the 
wild, poetic, Corsican village doctor. 

I have often thought of him since, so full of mental 
refinement, of classical and poetical conceits, and yet 
spending his days and nights for a bare maintenance in 
ministering to the poor ignorant peasants around him. 
I have seen some charming little poems written by him, 
full of sentiment and pathos. Perhaps, however, he is 
happier surrounded by the majestic scenery of his native 
country, which he can so well appreciate, and in possession 
of the affection and confidence of his simple patients, than 
many a great city doctor in other countries. 

On our route to and from Bastia, we passed along the 
salt-water pond of Biguglia, through one of the most 
malarious regions. At that time, the latter end of April, 
there was no malaria whatever. The country was covered 
with grass and green crops ; it looked, indeed, so smiling 
and pretty, so much like fiat healthy meadow land in 
England, that it was really difficult to believe that this 
very region could be one of the pestilential spots from 
which every one flies in autumn. And yet such is the 
case ; even a passing traveller might all but have guessed 
that the country was insalubrious, from the complete 
absence of farms and villages. 

On the mountain side, however, to the west, away from 
the shore, were numerous villages, all at an elevation 
of one thousand or fifteen hundred feet above the sea- 
level. They were thus invariably built, I was told, to 
secure the inhabitants from malaria. The owners of the 
alluvial shore-plains who reside in them, descend in the 
morning to cultivate the soil, and then return at night. 



CORTE — MALARIA. 375 

The principal agricultural operations on the eastern 
coast, from Bastia to Bonifacio, are carried on by an emi- 
gration of Lucchese from the Continent. They arrive in 
November, till the soil during the winter months, when 
malaria is dormant, and return to their own mountains in 
April. They reach their native villages with a few pounds 
in their pocket, the result of the winter's labour, but also 
often with the seeds of fatal disease. The crops are reaped 
in June, and then the malarious plains are deserted, left to 
nature, until the cold weather of autumn has rendered 
them safe, or at least partly so. The Corsican summer 
sun is so fierce, that wherever water stagnates, even when 
deep in the soil and not perceptible to the eye, it appears 
to produce malaria. The change from intense heat in the 
day to damp coolness in the night in these districts is con- 
stantly attended with the generation of fever. 

More to the south there are plains such as those of 
Aleria, a Roman colony and town in former clays, which 
are even more deadly than that of Biguglia. 

Although Corte is in the middle of the mountains, 
fifteen hundred feet above the level of the sea, and merely 
traversed by a brawling mountain torrent, I found that 
malaria fever was rife there. Dr. Tedeschi, the leading 
medical practitioner at Corte, told me tbat he thought the 
fever was constantly developed at Corte and in Corsica 
generally, in summer and autumn, by a mere chill, quite 
independently of any malarious influence. Every year he 
was called to attend very severe cases, brought on by 
chills experienced from merely sitting out in the evening 
under the shade of a row of plane trees, in the centre of 
the town or elsewhere, away from all water. I found the 
same opinion prevalent among the medical men both of 
Bastia and Ajaccio. 

The experience of the Corsican medical practitioners 
thus appears to corroborate the views entertained by a much 
valued friend, the late Dr. Robert Dundas, and brought before 
the profession in his interesting work, entitled " Sketches 
of Brazil" (1852). Dr. Dundas proves to demonstration, 
by numerous facts derived from his lengthened experience 
of intermittent fever in the Brazils and in other tropical 



376 Corsica. 

climates, that the purest and most wholesome sea-hreeze 
will often give rise to severe intermittent fevers, when 
those exposed to it are debilitated by heat, by previous 
illness, or by bodily and mental exhaustion, or are in a 
state of perspiration from severe exertion. At Bahia the 
most malarious houses are not those that are exposed to 
winds coming from the neighbouring" marshes, but those 
that are the best situated according to English ideas, that are 
exposed, without protection, to a pure, but moist sea-breeze. 
Chill would be the cause of fever according to this view. 

Again, Dr. Rennie, in an interesting work, entitled "The 
British Arms in North China and Japan," says " that 
soldiers residing in malarious localities and in low situa- 
tions, often did not appear to suffer, but when removed to 
the heights, ar>d freely exposed to the breeze, they were 
struck down with fevers." These and similar cases 
occurring- again and again, led Dr. Rennie to conclude 
that the low situations produced a debilitating effect and a 
predisposition to fever which attacked the weakened men 
directly they were exposed to currents of air. Thus what 
would have been found invigorating to persons in health 
could not be endured by these men owing to their weakened 
state, from the intense heat of summer. 

Most of the malarious regions in Corsica are on or 
near the sea- shore, and as there is in summer a very 
decided sea-breeze during the day, its chilling influence 
may be an important cause of fever ; the predisposing cause 
being previous exposure to intense heat. 

The Corsican medical practitioners, although thus ad- 
mitting that a chill will produce ague in their climate, 
apart from the influence of marsh air, give the latter full 
weight as a cause of fever. It would be difficult to do 
otherwise in a country like Corsica, for the fever is the 
most severe and the most deadly where the marshes are the 
most extensive, as on the eastern coast ; whereas it all but 
disappears wherever full and efficient drainage is carried 
out. Several regions were pointed out to me, such as San 
Fiorenzo and Calvi, formerly decimated by fever, and now 
comparatively healthy, through the drainage of neighbour- 
ing marshes. 






CORTE — ARAB PRISONERS. 377 

In our country a chill in summer does not produce 
ague, but bronchitis, pleurisy, rheumatism, or diarrhoea, 
but then the human economy has not been previously 
exposed to intense tropical heat. Still, our marshy, un- 
d rained districts, such as the fens of Lincolnshire, are 
malarious, like the marshes of Corsica, intermittent fever 
appearing* in autumn, apparently without previous tropical 
heat or exposure to recognisable chills. 

Corte is historically interesting for, not being exposed 
to attack, like the shore towns in olden times, it became 
the patriotic capital of Corsica ; it appeared to me. how- 
ever, one of the least picturesque towns that I saw. The 
principal sight is an old historical castle worth visiting. 
On one of my visits to this castle it was tenanted by 
four hundred Arab prisoners, taken in war in Algeria, 
by the French, and therein confined. It was sad to see 
these children of the desert with their fierce black eyes 
and swarthy complexions, wrapped up in their bournous 
or mantles, walking or lying listlessly about the court- 
yards, dreaming no doubt of liberty, of the sunburnt land 
of their fathers. Many were leaning over the ramparts, 
looking steadfastly at the distant mountains, probably in 
imagination scaling their fastnesses in freedom. Some 
followed our movements wistfully with the eye, wherever 
we went, no doubt envying our power of egress. It made 
my heart ache to look at them, and I was glad to leave the 
castle. Prisoners in wild, free Corsica seemed an ana- 
chronism, a sad blot on the land. The poor Arabs had to 
remain cooped up in this mountain castle one long dreary 
year more, and then they were liberated, on the occasion of 
the French Emperor's visit to Algeria. 

In the neighbourhood of Corte, at Ponte Leccia, are 
some copper mines. The proprietors told me that the 
mines were getting into good working order, and would 
certainly prove a valuable speculation. Indeed, Corsica 
offers a wide field near home to the speculative ; its mines, 
its marble quarries, its forests, and its vineyards are, no 
doubt, capable of being worked with advantage. 

Isola Rossa, or lie Rousse, is a small modern town, 
founded by Paoli in the latter part of last century, with a 



378 coksica. 

good port, and weekly steam communication with Mar- 
seilles. The coast and country are picturesque, but there 
is no accommodation for strangers, except the little inn. 
Moreover, the south-westerly winds must be trying, if we 
may judge by the inclined trunks of the trees on the shore. 
The beans and rye were ripe on the 25th of April, and the 
planes were in full leaf. There is one handsome modern 
house, like a quadrangular castle of the olden time, belong- 
ing to M. Piccioni, the brother of my friend at Bastia, 
from whom, too, I received great attention. 

Calvi is an old seaport, further south, for centuries occu- 
pied by the Genoese, to whom it ever remained faithful; 
its motto, " Semper Fidelis," may be still seen on the gate. 
It occupies a high promontory, which forms one side of a 
very fine and tolerably safe bay. The upper part of the 
tow n is a mass of ruins, and has been so ever since it was 
bombarded in 1794 by Nelson, who there lost an eye. It 
is quite singular to walk through the streets among the 
falling walls of houses, some merely shattered, some partly 
burnt, as if by a bombardment of yesterday only. Below 
these shell-and-cannon devastated houses are those occu- 
pied by the modern town. 

Across the small bay is a semicircular plain, a few miles 
only in depth, and bounded by a semicircle of glorious 
snow-capped granite mountains. The view from the ram- 
parts of Calvi is perfectly magnificent. From the sides of 
these mountains run several torrents or rivers, which have, 
as usual, converted the alluvial plain into a fever-breeding 
district ; hence the extreme unhealthiness of Calvi in 
the past. The drainage and cultivation of some of these 
marshes have much improved its sanitary condition. The 
plain is covered with the ever-present maquis, Myrtle, 
Cystus, Heath, Arbutus, and Lentiscus, and looks as inno- 
cent as possible. To render it really so, the torrents would 
have to be embanked, and the soil drained and cultivated. 
Wherever this is done malaria all but disappears, even in 
Corsica. M. Piccioni, of Isola Rossa, has purchased a con- 
siderable tract of this land, and is clearing, draining, and 
cultivating it, as a lesson to his fellow-countrymen at Calvi. 
The land thus brought into cultivation is turning out most 



A COOL SUMMER RETREAT. 379 

productive, and this philanthropic lesson will eventually 
prove a profitable investment. 

One of the objects of my visit to Corsica, as elsewhere 
stated, was to find a perfectly cool summer station for the 
English consumptive invalids who wish to pass the summer 
abroad. I found stations such as Orezza, and the baths of 
Guagno, near Ajaccio, which would do very well for 
healthy persons, anxious to escape from the extreme heat 
of southern Europe during the summer months. But 
these localities are not sufficiently high and cool to be 
chosen as summer retreats by invalids. The latter, as 
previously explained, ought, if possible, to keep in a dry, 
cool temperature, between 60° and 70° Fah. The Corsicans 
do not feel the want of such a summer temperature, and 
have consequently made no effort to find it. 

On crossing the granite chain on the way from Corte to 
Ajaccio, we came to a spot between Vivario and Bocognano, 
called Foci, the most elevated that is passed, which would 
no doubt do admirably for such, a summer sanitarium. 
We were quite four thousand feet high, and had left the 
maritime Pines and the Chestnuts far below; the trees had 
become English trees — Beech, Birch, and Larch. The air 
was cool and pleasant, the sky clear, the mountains very 
beautiful; but there was only a small, dirty, roadside inn. 
No doubt the Ajaccians would shudder at the idea of 
spending their summer in such a locality, and yet it is 
admirably situated for a cool mountain hotel, or sanitarium, 
such as abound in Switzerland. 

Nothing would be more enjoyable than to pass two or three 
months in midsummer, in the pure mountain atmosphere 
of such a spot, in the very midst of the primeval forest. 
The Larches line the sides of the all but perpendicular 
mountains around, climbing in serried ranks towards the 
sky, until they reach the snow line. The Beeches in the 
valleys and ravines are growing as luxuriantly as in our 
own country, and form a glorious shade from the still 
ardent sun. The moss-covered ground is enamelled with 
wild flowers, and the entire scene is enlivened by brawling 
torrents and streamlets of pure crystal water, dashing 
over the rocks in their impetuous descent to the plains. 



380 CORSICA. 

I have twice crossed this glorious mountain pass, and 
each time the irrational impulse has been strong upon me 
to let the carriage go on alone, and to take my chance in 
the wilds of these Corsican mountains. 

The inhabitants of the more southern regions of conti- 
nental Europe do not seem to possess, in the slightest 
degree, the roving, adventurous spirit of our countrymen. 
They do not understand our love For the picturesque, our 
readiness to undergo any amount of privation and fatigue 
in the endeavour to find it. I well remember one of the 
most accomplished, cultivated, and refined Italian noble- 
men I have met with saying to me " that he could not 
comprehend the English going up a mountain merely to 
come down again. It appeared to him all but an act of 
insanity. He was ready to undergo any amount of fatigue 
or exertion for a geological or botanical purpose, but as to 
exhausting himself as we did, merely to look round him 
from the top of a mountain at naked rocks and arid 
stones, he could not do it, and did not understand its 
being done." 

Hence the higher classes in these countries are rarely 
found away frOm home, except in cities or in watering 
places, where they congregate for a tangible purpose, 
health and society. As a necessary result, in the wildest, 
most retired, and at the same time the most beautiful 
regions, there is often no kind of accommodation; for none 
but peasants or roving Englishmen visit them. 

It is worthy of remark that a love of, and an enthusiastic 
appreciation of the picturesque in nature is a result of 
education and of refinement ; I might add, of modern refine- 
ment. It is very seldom met with in the uneducated, who 
generally seem to live in the midst of the most beautiful 
scenery without its making the least impression upon 
them ; they gaze on it like sheep, stolidly. I have been 
struck, also, in reading poets and writers even of the last 
century, by the very different manner in which they appear 
to appreciate scenery as compared with the appreciations of 
modern writers. In their eyes a heather covered common 
is wild, bleak, melancholy; a jagged precipitous mountain 
is sombre, desolate, threatening. Now-a-days the ideas 






VICO — AN EQUESTRIAN EXCURSION. 381 

raised in the mind of an admirer of nature by the same 
scenes would be exactly the reverse. 

The routes forestieres, or forest roads, which have been 
and are being constructed, in order to open out the 
hitherto inaccessible primeval forests in the higher moun- 
tain regions, might be made the means of a very enjoyable 
tour. A light carriage, char-a-banc or waggon, could be 
chartered at Bastia, and equipped with supplies, as for a 
journey in South Africa, with hammocks and other gipsy 
equipments. Thus armed the wilderness might be en- 
countered, and what with local resources, and the assis- 
tance of the village cures or priests, the Corsican highlands 
could be explored in every direction. Had I leisure I 
would certainly carry out this plan : the season should be 
April and May. 

A long way down, on the western slope, we found a 
favourite hot- weather retreat, Bocognano. It is a Chest- 
nut country village, like Orezza, and assuredly a very hot 
place, for we were half roasted in April, during the time 
we remained for breakfast. It is true the Chestnut trees 
were not yet in full leaf, and gave no shade. 

The baths of Guagno, about twenty miles north-east of 
Ajaccio, are greatly renowned in Corsica. The waters are 
sulphurous, and much frequented in summer. It is to 
the fashionable world of Ajaccio what Orezza is to that of 
Bastia. Guagno is prettify situated, about three miles 
from Vico, in a " fold" of the mountain, amidst a forest of 
Chestnut trees, and is in the immediate vicinity of one 
of the largest and grandest of the primeval forests of 
Corsica, that of Aitone. Evisa, about fifteen miles beyond 
Vico, is the nearest point for the forest. 

At Vico, the ladies of our party were most hospitably 
received by a Corsican gentleman and his family. A picnic 
excursion to the forest was proposed and accepted, and 
one of our companions, a young lady from Yorkshire, 
accustomed to follow the hounds and a perfect equestrian, 
greatly surprised the escort, composed of some score or 
two of Corsican gentlemen. Mounted on a strong moun- 
tain pony, dressed in a scarlet Garibaldi and an improvised 
habit, she valiantly took the lead, and kept it throughout 



382 CORSICA. 

a ride of more than thirty miles, there and back, over hill 
and dale, up and down precipitous roads frightful to look 
at. Our brave and much admired young 1 countrywoman 
returned, I am happy to say, in triumph, safe and sound. 
This is more than can be said of all her followers, 
for some awkward tumbles took place among them; 
but, fortunately, they were unattended with any serious 
consequences. 

The road from Ajaccio to Vico is grandly beautiful. 
On leaving Ajaccio it climbs up the sides of one of the 
lateral granite spurs, to a height of £200 feet, and then 
descends into a most lovely and picturesque valley, Lia- 
mone by name. It is shut in by the high forest-covered 
mountains to the east, by the blue sea to the west, and 
north and south by the granite buttresses, one of which 
we were then crossing. The first glimpse of this wide 
smiling valley was a revelation of the social condition of 
its inhabitants, and of this part of the island in general. 
Before the road on which we were travelling was made, 
those who dwelt in it must have been quite shut out from 
the world, even from the little Corsiean world. The tra- 
ditions, customs, and ideas of their ancestors must have 
been transmitted from one generation to another, with 
little or no change, and century after century would thus 
pass without modifying the national characteristics. 

In one corner of this smiling valley, on a promontory that 
juts into the sea from its north-western extremity, there 
is a little village called Cargese, which strongly illustrates 
these facts. In the fourteenth century several hundred 
Greeks, flying from Turkish tyranny, were allowed by 
the Corsicans to land in this remote spot, and to found a 
colony. Such as it was then, it is to this day, a Greek 
colony. The descendants of the first settlers have retained 
their religion, their language, their dress, their customs, 
without mixing with the surrounding population. It is a 
village of Attica, lost in a corner of Corsica. 

At the mountain village of Vico, for it is a mere village, 
although dignified by the name of town, we were hos- 
pitably received at a small and unpretending inn. The 
servant maid, who served us at supper, a pretty girl of 






A DILIGENCE ADVENTURE. 383 

seventeen, had thoroughly Grecian features, and on my 
asking her whence she came, she answered from Cargese. 
On inquiring as to whether she meant to marry at Vico, 
she said no, she must go home for that. 

The road beyond Ponto passes through the wildest, most 
mountainous, and most inaccessible part of the entire 
coast. The primeval forest here descends all but to the 
sea-line on the west, whilst it climbs up the mountain 
peaks and buttresses on the east, and communicates with 
nearly all the grandest and most inaccessible forests of 
the island. In the nearest forest, tbat of Aitone, are in- 
numerable larches one hundred and twenty feet high, 
with a diameter of nine feet at their base. They push 
their vigorous roots in the crevices of the hardest rocks, 
on the most precipitous regions of the mountain, and then 
rise straight as an arrow, pointing to the clouds. The 
hardy pedestrian would find in these forest- clad moun- 
tains innumerable sites combining " the wild and savage 
beauty of Swiss scenery with the isolation, the silence, of 
the primeval forests of America/'' (Marmocehi.) 

On our excursion to Vico we had an adventure, which 
may be worth relating as an illustration of Corsican 
travel. At the stage which commences at the summit of 
the mountain ascended on leaving Ajaccio, we took up, as 
driver, a wild, half-intoxicated young Corsican, whose looks 
none of us liked. When on the box he found that he had lost 
his whip, butregardlessof that very important fact, he started 
in grand style. We were descending by a road several 
miles in length, from the summit to the base of the moun- 
tain. Gradually the speed of the horses increased, but 
instead of restraining them he urged them on by wild 
shouts and gesticulations, until the heavy diligence flew 
down the steep descent. In vain we tried to make him 
moderate his speed; both he and his horses seemed too 
excited to listen to reason, and we continued to plunge 
madly downwards, turning sharp corners in such a manner 
as to threaten instant destruction. We saw that he could 
no longer stop the horses if he wished it, so concluded to 
leave him alone, aud to take our chance. 

The horses were three in number, driven abreast ; the 



384 Corsica. 

centre one a powerful stallion. As we neared the valley, 
maddened by the speed and by the voice of his wild driver, 
he suddenly jumped on one of the horses by his side, like a 
wolf on a deer, fastened his teeth into each side of the back, 
and bit him so savagely that the blood spurted on the road 
on both sides. The poor horse, thus attacked, reared and 
plunged, writhing and backing. The diligence, during 
the struggle, was swayed in every direction, and finally 
backed to the side, where there was a precipitous descent. 
We should no doubt have been thrown down it had not 
the conductor, a brave old man, managed to jump down, 
and with our assistance to get hold of the horses' heads. 
The driver, having no whip, was quite powerless. The 
side horses were so terrified to be near their savage com- 
panion that we had great difficulty in reaching the end of 
the stage. 

On the return journey we found the wild driver waiting 
for us, but I had heard in the meanwhile, at Vico and 
elsewhere, that he was a brutal, drunken, good-for-nothing 
youth, the terror of the road, that he daily imperilled 
the safety of the diligence, but that he was known to be of 
so violent a character that no one durst complain of him, 
for fear of the consequences. I and my friends at once 
refused to let him keep his seat on the box, and insisted 
on the previous driver taking us through to Ajaccio. With 
great difficulty we made him dismount, and got to our 
journey's end safely. 

On arrival I immediately lodged a complaint against 
this man, and to make sure, also sent it to head-quarters 
at Bastia. I must confess, however, that I and my friends 
were not sorry we were leaving Ajaccio the next day, 
having a vague idea, with Corsican vendetta staring us in 
the face, that we had made the place rather " too hot'"' for 
us. I must add, however, that this is the only instance in 
which I had reason to complain of the drivers during my 
three visits to Corsica. 1 believe that it was quite an 
accidental circumstance, for in every other instance I 
have found them courteous, and although rather daring, 
prudent and careful. 

The southern regions of Corsica, both on the west and 



GRANITE SPURS ON SOUTH-WEST COAST. 385 

east side of the central mountain ranges, are much more 
wild, more uncultivated, and more sparsely inhabited, than 
the northern. On my third visit to Corsica, in the spring- 
of 1868, I devoted the greater part of the few weeks I had 
to spare to a tour in these the southern regions, which I 
had not before visited, thus completing the survey of the 
island. I travelled from Ajaccio to Sartene, made an. 
excursion into the mountains at S ta . Lucia di Tallano, and 
then pursued the journey from Sartene to Bonifacio, and from 
thence to Porto Vecchio and to Bastia by the eastern coast. 

Every mile of the road from Ajaccio to Sartene is 
beautiful in the extreme. The Bonifacio diligence, leaving 
Ajaccio early in the morning, reaches Sartene in the 
evening, where an inn is found at which the night may be 
passed with tolerable comfort. 

Granite buttresses continue to strike out from the 
central chain to the western sea, enclosing lovely valleys; 
thus the coast road is a perpetual ascent and descent. 
When it has laboriously ascended one of these granite 
spurs, it immediately descends, a brawling alpine river is 
crossed at the bottom of the valley, and then it again 
ascends the next buttress. The road has been made within 
the last few years, at immense expense and trouble, by 
blasting and cutting a kind of shelf or terrace in the side 
of the mountain, alternately through solid granite, com* 
pact granitic sandstone, and loose granitic gravel. 

Owing to the great depth of the cuttings thus made on 
the inner or mountain side of the road, the character of 
the root vegetation is very clearly revealed at every step, 
and some instructive facts are brought to light. Thus the 
vigorous growth of the shrubs on the flanks of mountains, 
baked by a southern sun during a long summer, with little 
or no summer rain, is explained by the length and strength 
of their long fibrous roots. They descend right through 
compact gravel or sand, through crevices and faults in the 
sandstone or granite rocks, imperceptible to the eye, to a 
depth of two, four, six, or more feet. In many instances 
they appear to pierce the very rock itself, and thus it is, no 
doubt, that they find the moisture necessary to their 
existence. 

c c 



386 Corsica. 

We see the same feature in root developments in sandy 
districts at home, when recently opened out by a railway 
cutting. The roots of the common Brake Fern, the Pteris 
aqnilina, and of the Gorse and Heather, descend to a great 
depth below the surface. My garden in Surrey is of this 
character, an arid sand, and I find few or no plants flourish 
in it, unless they have long fibrous or "tap" roots (such as 
Eschscholtzia), which can go down all but any depth for 
moisture and nourishment. The heavy autumnal and 
spring rains, penetrating deeply into the soil and into the 
crevices and cracks of the Corsican rocks, provide moisture 
to plants even during the protracted droughts of the 
southern summer. Where no rain falls at any time of the 
year, as in some parts of the coast of Peru, there is said to 
be no spontaneous vegetation whatever. The absolute 
necessity of heavy winter rains, even in a dry climate such 
as that of the south of Europe, to enable crops to be raised 
and fruit trees to produce fruit, is illustrated by deficient 
harvests after winter drought. If the winter rains are 
much below the average, the rain does not penetrate much 
below the surface, so that the roots of the Olive and 
Orange trees, which descend rather deep, are not moistened. 
When this occurs the trees live, but no fruit crop is pro- 
duced the following autumn. 

I found great anxiety expressed in Corsica on this occa- 
sion about rain, the winter having been a very dry one. 
It was generally stated that if the rain did not come 
within a fortnight, and rain cannot be depended upon at 
this season of the year, the crops would be seriously com- 
promised. Although one-eighth of the island is still 
covered with primeval forests, the question is everywhere 
discussed as to whether the mountain sides in accessible 
places have not been too freely cleared of their timber. 
The clearance of forest land in France is generally acknow- 
ledged, by all competent authorities, to be the principal 
cause of the disastrous droughts in the southern provinces, 
as well as of the constant inundations of all the large 
rivers. The French Government is therefore taking active 
measures to have the mountain sides replanted. At Ajaccio 



THE CYCLAMEN — A CORSICAN RIVER. 387 

I heard that, hundreds of sacks of the seeds of the noble 
Corsican Pinus Larix are annually exported to the Conti- 
nent for that purpose. 

In April in Corsica the roadside in the valleys, especially 
under Chestnut trees, as I have stated, is enamelled with 
the purple Cyclamen. Its lovely flowers are seen in as 
great profusion as Daisies with us in the regions where 
the soil is congenial. On trying to get up some bulbs 
with a pocket-knife, I found that they were generally 
so deeply embedded as to be nearly unattainable, a 
foot or more deep. With us the Cyclamen is usually 
planted at the top of the pot, but this mode of cultivation 
is evidently not necessary, as Nature does not follow it. 
In the wild state the bulb is covered by successive layers 
of dead leaves, and thus becomes deeply buried. I believe 
that planted in rich, light soil, a foot from the surface, in 
our gardens, it would escape winter frost, prove hardy, and 
be a great ornament in early summer. 

The next morning my future host, M. Giacomoni, Mayor 
of S ta . Lucia di Tallano, with whom I had promised to 
spend a few days in his mountain home, arrived before 
I was up. After partaking of a capital breakfast, we 
started in a kind of light spring cart, drawn by two wild 
Corsican ponies. They rattled down the hill on which 
Sartene is placed in fine style, and we soon reached the 
lower part of a valley, crossed. the night before in the dili- 
gence ; we had to ascend this valley to reach our destina- 
tion. In the centre of the valley was a lovely little river, 
about forty feet broad, and on each side smiling grass 
meadows, and, occasionally, cultivated fields, with Willows 
and other trees on the margin. It looked like a pretty 
bit of river scenery in England, and I could scarcely 
believe my companion when he told me that the district 
was so deadly in summer, that no one could live or work 
there after June on account of malaria, without risking 
life. Some years ago some French agriculturists from 
the Continent saw this smiling valley, and, appreciating 
the depth and goodness of the soil, and its small peeuniarv 
value, bought an estate. Then, laughing at the fears of 

c c % 



388 CORSICA. 

the Corsican peasantry, they built a house and began tilling 
and planting as in the north. They all got fever, however, 
and they all died in less than two years ! 

When we reached an elevation of 300 feet by the baro- 
meter, M. Giacomoni turning round, showed me a mill- 
house, and said, " Now we are out of the malaria region, 
people can and do live all the year in that house/' 

Here we had another travelling 1 incident worth narrating 
as illustrative of the Corsican character. Some slight altera- 
tion was required to the harness, and we both got out. 
Taking advantage of a moment's liberty, the ponies bolted, 
and were soon out of sight, leaving us standing in the road, 
much to the chagrin of my host. There was nothing for it 
but to walk on in the blazing sun, with the prospect of 
having to finish our journey, some ten miles, on foot. We 
had not, however, gope very far when we met, coming 
towards us, two Corsican shepherds, mounted on shaggy 
little ponies. My friend, who did not seem to enjoy the 
walk as much as I did, asked these men to lend us their 
steeds, which they cheerfully did, so we mounted triumph- 
antly, whilst they trudged quietly by our side, talking in 
patois to M. Giacomoni. Two or three miles further on we 
had the satisfaction of seeing the carriage and ponies un- 
damaged in the hands of a peasant. They had continued 
at full gallop until they reached a steep acclivitj^. Then 
they slackened their speed, and the peasant seeing them 
without driver, stopped them. On getting off our ponies I 
thanked the owners, and offered one of them a gratuity. 
With a smile he pushed my hand aside, saying, " No, sir ; 
a Corsican does not receive a gratuity for a small service 
rendered. If you were to offer me fifty thousand francs 
you might tempt me, but I do not want five; I had rather 
have your thanks." To such reasoning there was nothing 
to be answered. 

Gradually the road became more mountainous, and the 
little river assumed more and more the character of an 
alpine trout stream. Still cultivation and fertility followed 
our track. At last, after a four hours' drive, we reached 
our destination. I was most cordially received by three 
very charming ladies, the wife and daughters of my host. 



S T1 . LUCIA DI TALLANO — SARTENE. 389 

With them I remained several days, greatly enjoying their 
gentle refined companionship, listening to the annals of this 
little village lost in the mountains of Corsica. To my young 
lady friends Sartene was the great town, where they had 
been to school, where the shops were. None of the family 
had been out of the island, and the ladies had not even been 
to Ajaccio or Bastia; they were too far off! Then the 
mayor and I used to adjourn to the village and talk public 
matters with some of the wise men, with old warriors, 
pensioners of the French army, come to eud their days in 
their native village, on the small pittance allowed them. 
The Corsicans are very partial to the army. It is said that 
there are now more than a thousand Corsican officers in 
the French army, and the towns and villages of Corsica are 
full of old soldiers come back to die in their native moun- 
tains. My visit was quite a public event. No Englishman, 
I was told, had been at Taliano for a hundred years — since 
the days of Paoli, before the French annexation — so curious 
but friendly glances followed me everywhere. 

At this time of the year S ta . Lucia di Taliano was a little 
earthly paradise. It is situated at the head of a smiling 
valley, 1600 feet above the level of the sea, in a region 
where the oidium, the Potato disease, the silkworm disease, 
cholera, and the summer fevers of the lower regions, all are 
equally unknown. It looks directly to the south towards 
the sea, which is concealed from the sight by a coast range 
of high mountains, and is protected from the north by a 
semicircle of mountains. The Vine, cereals of all sorts, 
Grasses, natural and artificial, and every kind of fruit tree, 
flourish in abundance in the rich soil formed by the breaking 
up of the granite rocks. The extreme luxuriance of fruit 
trees, and especially of Almond, Peach, and Apricot trees 
on the Genoese Riviera, proves to demonstration that chalk 
and lime suit their constitution, inasmuch as that soil is a 
mere break-up of limestone rocks: but their equal luxuriance 
on this soil — a granitic micaceous schist, mixed with vege- 
table matter — also shows that they find in it all the ele- 
ments of nutrition. On each side of the valley, on the 
higher mountain sides, the Ilex, or evergreen Oak, climbs 
towards the sky in serried ranks. This tree is one of the 



390 CORSICA, 

principal vegetable products of the island, and alone con- 
stitutes many of the smaller forests. When growing in the 
lower region of valleys, in deep soil, it assumes a large size, 
and has much of the dignified character of our common 
Oak, only the foliage is more sombre and denser. The 
wood is not much esteemed, rotting early, so that it is 
principally used for making charcoal. 

A great deal of the land around is planted with vines, 
and under the intelligent management of M. Giacomoni, 
the largest proprietor of the district, these vines are made 
to produce an excellent wine — the Vin de Tallano. Very 
like an unfortified port, it improves year by year by keeping, 
and with age becomes a superior wine. At the outlet of 
this fertile valley, comprised between two spurs of the 
mountain, there is a little port called Propiano, whence its 
products re^ch Ajaccio and the mainland. 

On returning to Sartene I took up my quarters at the 
inn, hired a species of gig to take me the next day to Boni- 
facio, fifty six miles, and then set out to explore the place. 
This was soon accomplished. Sartene is a small inland 
town like Corte, at the west base of the southern central 
mountains, and is separated from the western sea by another 
ridge. In olden times it was generally in the hands of the 
national party, and is still inhabited by some of the oldest 
Corsican families. Like Corte, it is an unprepossessing 
place, a kind of overgrown village, with some evidence of 
recent prosperity and progress in the shape of new tall five- 
storied French houses, very unsuitable for a hot summer 
climate. The French do not seem to know better than to 
build tall Parisian six-storied houses, all windows, wherever 
they go. Thus I found at Algiers and at Oran all the 
modern houses built in this style. Such houses must be 
simply unbearable in sultry weather. 

The w 7 eather was heavenly, the road enchanting, and the 
country one mass of the spring flowers of sandstone forma- 
tions. The road, a very good one, winds in and out, up hill 
and down dale, often coming near the sea, then receding 
from it, with rocks or hills intervening, with the granite 
mountains to the east. As we approached the southern 
extremity of the island I was more and more struck by the 



BONIFACIO — ITS MARINE CAVES. 391- 

Conclusive evidence on all sides of glacial as well as of ante- 
cedent volcanic action. The granite rocks were torn, twisted, 
and broken into every conceivable shape, but prominent 
above all were granite boulders of all sizes, immense blocks 
as well as small ones, lying, in every direction, one on the 
other, in indescribable confusion. Evidently they had been 
dropped by glaciers at this the extremity of the great central 
granite chain of Corsica. At last there was nothing left of 
the central mountains but confused groups of these boulders, 
some of which appeared to have been purposely dropped 
u by hand" on others larger in size ; like a paving-stone 
gently deposited on a table. 

We stopped to rest at midday for a couple of hours at a 
shed on the roadside where horses are kept for the diligence. 
It was in the very midst of this boulder drift, and a careful 
examination of a considerable area convinced me that no 
other physical fact but glacial action could account for what 
I saw. No doubt, in the glacial period, glaciers extended 
all down Corsica, and this would be the region where they 
would end and form a " moraine." 

A little before reaching Bonifacio the granite formation 
ceases, and the rocks become tertiary, cretaceous. Bonifacio 
is a fortified town occupying a promontory, the sides of 
which towards the sea are precipitous and slightly exca- 
vated by the waves, so that it all but overhangs the Straits 
at an elevation of one hundred and fifty feet. It is a mere 
large fortified village, with narrow streets, large barracks, 
and a villanous inn. I was very cordially received by M. 
Montepagano, the mayor, a well-informed physician, and 
by M. Piras, the judge, friends of M. Piccioni of Bastia. 
These gentlemen placed themselves at my disposal, and 
took me in a boat to see some splendid caverns in the 
calcareous rocks, like churches. Here the Bonifacians, 
during the heat of summer, fish, picnic, and bathe, often 
spending the entire day enjoying the coolness and freshness 
of these marine retreats. They also took me to a pretty 
convent or hermitage in the rocks two miles from the town, 
where a Benedictine monk lives in a glorious solitude, the 
picturesque beauty of which I do not think he fully appre- 
ciates, from his response to some remarks of mine about the 



392 CORSICA. 

magnificent view and the picturesque rocks which surround 
him. He, assenting, explained that they so sheltered his 
garden that he could grow cabbages all summer. M. Piras, 
my host, who had recently purchased a large extent of the 
" maquis," through which we passed on our way to the 
hermitage, was full of plans for its redemption, The great 
difficulty he said was the labour question. 

The Bonifacians, however poor, have preserved the habits 
of their ancestors when the town was a fortified city, often 
besieged. They live inside, keep donkeys, and ride out to 
work in the country, every morning. This destroys all 
interest in their labours, makes them idle and ever ready to 
shirk work, to remain in the town that they may drink 
and gossip with their wives. The latter and the children, 
on this system, bring nothing to the common fund, and 
acquire habits of idleness difficult to eradicate. 

I was anxious to pay Garibaldi a visit at Caprera, on 
the other side of the Straits, and my new allies placed 
the government cutter at my disposal for the cruise. Un- 
fortunately there was a dead calm, and after waiting 
twenty-four hours for wind, I was reluctantly obliged to 
give up all idea of the intended excursion, to take leave of 
my hospitable friends, and to embark in the diligence for 
Bastia by the eastern coast. This journey takes twenty- 
four hours, a night and day, but I divided it. I had an 
introduction to Dr. Tavera, the head physician to the 
penitentiary of Casabianda, a little more than half-way, 
who gave me a bed and a fraternal reception, and I was 
thus enabled to escape the night travelling. 

The road to Bastia from Bonifacio is a shore road that 
skirts the entire eastern coast of Corsica, from south to 
north, and seldom loses sight of the sea. For the first 
few miles out of Bonifacio the chalky soil continues, then 
the granite, sandstone, and gravel make their appearance, 
and with them the brushwood, or maquis, Cistus, Cytisus, 
Lentiscus, Dwarf Ilex. I was on the imperial or top of 
the diligence for the view, sitting next to the conductor, 
who had a gun at his side. It was, he said, in order to 
take a shot at any game that might chance to cross the 
road. In winter he often bagged hares, birds, and some- 






PORTO VECCHIO — CASABIANDA. 393 

times wild boars. Two of the latter actually crossed the 
road, but at too great a distance to allow of his showing 
his skill. On the road from Sartene to Bonifacio, we had 
travelled all day without meeting" a single carriage or cart, 
and not a dozen pedestrians. It was pretty much the 
same on the eastern road. The country was lovely, smiling 
with nature's gifts, but as to inhabitants, they were few 
and far between. 

Porto Vecchio was reached in a few hours. It is at the 
bottom of a fine bay, and in olden, classical times, was a 
seaport of some importance. Now it is a mere village, the 
centre, however, of an extensive district. On the land 
side it is surrounded by marshes, which make it so un- 
healthy, that in summer nearly all the inhabitants go up 
to the mountains. Those who remain to keep house, all 
but invariably get fever ; it is the penalty they pay for 
taking care of the town. 

Soon after leaving Porto Vecchio, we entered upon the 
fertile, productive, calcareous plains which lie at the foot of 
the eastern cretaceous mountains. The vegetation was 
that of rich alluvial meadow-land in England, and it was 
difficult to believe that we were passing through a district 
so malarious, as to be all but uninhabitable during the 
summer months. But the paucity of villages and of in- 
habited houses along the road was very significative, as was, 
on the other hand, the presence of numerous villages on 
the Olive-clad mountain to the west. 

I arrived at the penitentiary of Casabianda late in the 
evening, and was not sorry to see the diligence move on, 
whilst I was to enjoy the hospitality and companionship of 
one whom I knew to be an intellectual Corsican physician. 
Dr. Tavera is one of those pioneers of social progress and 
civilization of whose devoted and enthusiastic labours the 
world knows little. At the head of the penitentiary, in 
which are confined a thousand criminals of the most dan- 
gerous class, his difficult but praiseworthy task is to reclaim 
them, and to accomplish this arduous undertaking, by 
conquering pestilence and disease, and by taking the sting 
out of fair nature run riot. I had a long* conversation with 
the doctor that night and the next day about his labours 



394 Corsica. 

and about malaria and fever in Corsica, and his experience 
confirmed my previous convictions. 

As I have already stated (page 375), on the authority of 
my friend Dr. Dundas, and others, it is an undeniable 
fact, that in warm climates intermittent and remittent 
fevers may occur where there are no marshes, as a mere 
result of a chill in an organization weakened by intense 
and protracted heat. It is possible that such chills may 
be the principal or sole cause of these fevers, even in low, 
damp, reputed malarious regions. Such, indeed, is the 
opinion of a very enlightened French author, Dr. Armand, 
who was many years with the French army in Algeria, 
and has written a most valuable work on the climate and 
diseases of that country, to which I shall have occasion to 
refer when describing my own Algerian experiences. This 
opinion has been very ably supported by Mr. Oldham of 
the Indian army in a work published in 1871, entitled 
V What is Malaria ?" He proves, most convincingly, 
that in India, as we have seen to be the case in the Brazils, 
in Algeria, in Corsica, and elsewhere, malarious fevers can 
be generated without the sufferer being exposed to marsh 
miasmata, by mere chill after intense heat. 

Still the fact remains that low-lying, damp, swampy 
regions in tropical, semi-tropical, and even northern 
countries, are so decimated by these fevers that the exist- 
ence of a malaria poison has been universally admitted 
by the medical profession. In the present state of science, 
therefore, the safest plan is to accept both causes in the 
pioduction of malarious fevers, marsh poison, and chill 
following intense beat, long endured. 

In this, my last visit to Corsica, my attention was 
mainly directed to this question of malaria and fever. 
Having been, I think I may say, a leading agent in 
opening out Corsica to the invalid and tourist world, I felt 
it a duty to clear up the question as far as was possible. 
The results at which I have arrived may be embodied in a 
few words. 

Wherever in Corsica a river or torrent descends from 
the mountains or valleys, and empties itself into the sea, 
there is malaria, or intermittent fever, in summer and 



MALARIA FEVER. 395 

autumn, in the plains which it waters, from the sea-level 
to an altitude varying between 300 and 500 feet. This I 
ascertained with the barometer. On ascending these 
valleys, when the barometer indicated an elevation of from 
300 to 500 feet, I was all but invariably told, "Now we 
are safe ; people can live here all the year round." In the 
more malarious regions of these plains I generally found 
that we were only a few feet above the sea-level, and that 
the country was nearly flat. In Algeria the same immunity 
does not appear to be secured by such an elevation. 
Indeed, in Algeria I found fever to exist all but every- 
where during the heats of summer, which is no doubt 
much more sultry than that of Corsica. In Corsica the 
fever sets in towards the latter end of June, increases in 
intensity until October, and disappears towards the end 
of October, as the days and nights become colder. It is 
often very severe, and assumes occasionally the pernicious 
form. It complicates nearly all other diseases that occur 
whilst it reigns. On the eastern coast, where, as we have 
seen, there are a series of marshes and ponds through 
which the rivers empty themselves into the sea, the malaria 
fever is more severe and more fatal than elsewhere. 

The few villages and isolated houses in these malarious 
plains are only inhabited during the cool months of the 
year. By the beginning or middle of July the harvest is 
over, and then the entire population abandon their homes 
and go to the mountains behind, there to occupy other 
habitations at an altitude of several thousand feet, during 
the hot months. Well-to-do people leave at the beginning 
of June, to return at the end of October. The working 
class leave when the harvest is over in July, and return 
early in October to till the ground. 

Malarious fevers exist not only in Corsica, but in 
Sardinia, in Sicily, and in all the Mediterranean islands, and 
on the mainland, under the same conditions, wherever a 
river runs into the sea. It would seem that the extreme 
prevalence of intermittent on the Mediterranean shores, at 
the outlets of rivers, in a temperate climate, is in a great 
measure owing to the sea being all but tideless. When 
storms come, the sand and shingle are thrown up in great 



396 Corsica. 

masses at the mouths of the rivers. There is no tidal scour 
as in the Atlantic, so that the waters of ihe river are pent 
up, flow back, and swamp all the lowlands, saturating them 
with moisture. Dead and decaying vegetable matter not 
being purified by the action of winter frosts, as in northern 
countries, the advent of the powerful summer sun produces 
that state of soil which gives rise to aguish fevers. It 
requires no marsh or pond to produce malaria; some of the 
most pestilential plains I saw — plains where human beings 
cannot live in summer — were as healthy, as innocent-look- 
ing in April and May as the banks of the Trent or of the 
Thames. It really appears quite sufficient to produce 
aguish fever in a tropical country that the land should 
have been saturated with water, either from rain or over- 
flow, in winter, that there should not be a good fall for 
drainage, and that the July heat should be reached. The 
natives of these countries know this, and act accordingly; 
but northerners do not, and are often difficult to convince, 
to their own destruction. They cannot believe that a 
smiling cornfield by the side of a pure running stream, 
such as they have fished in and bathed in day after day in 
their youth, during sultry August weather at home, can 
possibly be in these countries pestilential — a place to fly 
from as soon as spring is over. They laugh at such reports. 
They think the natives faint-hearted, lazy cravens, and go 
about their work as at home, to sicken and die in a year or 
two. I have already mentioned one history of this kind, 
but that of the Casabianda penitentiary is still more 
remarkable. 

Casabianda is an agricultural colony of convicts, founded 
by the French Government in 1864, in order to drain and 
reclaim some of the ponds and swamps of the eastern 
coast. Unfortunately the Government gave the first ap- 
pointment of director to a clever energetic officer, but a 
northerner, who knew nothing of Corsica or of its fever. 
He thought all he heard nonsense ; that the fever was the 
result of the men working in the heat of the day and being 
badly fed. So he had the convicts up before daylight, and 
made them work at the drainage in " the cool of the 
Then he had them home in the heat of the 



THE PENITENTIARY OF CASABIANDA. 397 

day for dinner and a siesta, and sent them ont to work 
again in the "cool of the evening." The local medical 
men and the Corsicans around him stood aghast at a plan 
so contrary to all their experience. For they wait until 
the sun has dispersed early watery vapours, and return 
home before sunset. But he was not to be persuaded, re- 
ported the medical men under him for "insubordination/' 
and had his own way. The result may be easily foretold. 
He lost during two years 65 per cent, of the convicts, or 
665 out of the 1000 each year. The Government was 
horror-struck, and the colony would have been abandoned 
had not the stubborn director, most fortunately, himself 
died of the fever. A more rational man was then ap- 
pointed, who allowed the medical staff free scope, and 
everything was reversed. The men were sent to work an 
hour after sunrise, and brought home an hour before sun- 
set. In the summer they were all transferred to the 
mountains, and various other precautions were taken, with 
such good results that now the mortality, in the same 
conditions and locality, is only 3£ per cent., or 35 per 
1000. These details I had from Dr. Tavera, the present 
medical superintendent of the penitentiary, to whose ener- 
getic efforts much of the improvement is due. Great works 
have been accomplished ; one or two large brackish ponds 
and swamps have been already drained, and a vast amount 
of land reclaimed. 

It seems incredible that such perverse stubbornness on 
the part of officials in authority should exist, and that 
masses of human beings should be shouldered into eternity 
through their blind opposition to professional knowledge. 
But similar circumstances are constantly occurring. Thus, 
at the commencement of the Crimean war our troops were 
located in autumn, by the officer in command, at the side 
of a malarious fresh-water lake, near Varna, in direct 
opposition to the medical staff; and soon after the camp 
was decimated by fever. In the year 1869 a regiment 
was transferred from the Cape to Mauritius by its colonel, 
during a severe epidemic of fever at the latter locality, in 
direct opposition to the medical staff, merely for the men to 
sicken and die by the hundred. 



398 Corsica. 

The practical deductions I draw from these researches 
are, that any part of Corsica is safe as a residence, either 
for invalids or tourists, from the end of October to the end 
of the second week in May ; but I do not advise either the 
one or the other to go to Corsica, or to remain there during 
the summer months, unless they leave the plains and the 
outlets of rivers, and settle on some mountain height. As 
the mountains rise to a height of nine thousand feet, there 
are many glorious regions where, throughout the heats of 
summer, a bracing healthy climate, and immunity from the 
intense summer heat of the Mediterranean would be secured ; 
but at present this advice cannot be followed, because no 
mountain accommodation exists. The establishment of 
some such cool mountain retreat for summer would be a 
great boon to the inhabitants of the Riviera, as well as 
to Corsican visitors. I am convinced that the Riviera 
is no more safe as a residence for northerners after the second 
or third week in May than Corsica. Although there are 
no marshes, every year there are cases of fever at Mentone 
among the patients who remain against my advice. 

A large portion of the surface of Corsica — I may say all 
that is not a primeval forest or under cultivation — is covered 
with what they call " maquis." I do not like to use the 
word brushwood or scrub, for such are very common terms 
to apply to groves of underwood composed of Myrtle, 
Arbutus, Cistus, rock-Roses, and Mediterranean Heath, 
and yet of such is the interminable "maquis" composed. 
These choice shrubs are the weeds of Corsica, growing 
wherever nature is left to herself, wherever the soil is 
not covered with timber. Indeed they soon again turn 
cultivated lands into brushwood if left uncultivated for a 
few years. 

The existence of this maquis, or brushwood, on all open 
ground, constitutes a feature in the social history of 
Corsica. It contributed much to the security of the out- 
laws or banditti. Growing generally from six to ten feet 
high, and where the soil is good to fifteen or twenty, it 
offers an all but impenetrable refuge. On the other 
hand, its invasion of all uncultivated soil in dense masses, 
renders it difficult and expensive to redeem land, and to 



THE MAQUIS — ROVING CATTLE. 399 

bring it into cultivation, once it has fallen into the wild 
state. 

Until within the last few years all cattle, to whomsoever 
belonging, had a right to pasture in the maquis. The 
result was the existence of roving flocks of sheep or goats, 
entrusted to shepherds or belonging to them, that passed 
from one part of the country to the other according to 
the season. These flocks committed great depreciations, 
especially the goats, and rendered husbandry difficult and 
precarious in the districts which they visited. Goats are 
so nimble and light footed that no ordinary fence will 
keep them out of a field, nothing short of a ten-feet wall ; 
so I found them everywhere in very bad odour. It is in 
reality the condition of an unsettled country ; many parts 
of Spain are to this day a desert from this cause. 

A law has, however, been passed, prohibiting what is 
called the " libre parcours," or free pasturage. No cattle 
are now allowed to pasture in grounds that do not belong 
to their owner, or that are not let to him ; nor are they 
allowed to roam untended. This necessary law has been 
of great service to agriculture, but, like all progress, it has 
its painful side, for I was told by peasants that they could 
now get no meat. It is like the enclosure of our commons. 
The peasantry who did not own land had flocks which 
they drove into the maquis, and on the products of which 
they partly subsisted. Now they are reduced in a great 
measure to the products of their own labour. 

England itself was very much like Corsica two hundred 
years ago, according to contemporary writers ; it was half 
covered with moors, fens, marshes, and forest. Sheep and 
goats were considered mischievous animals and much 
abused, and the poor helped life with common rights. Since 
the accession of George II. four thousand Acts have been 
passed for the enclosure of commons, and most of the fens 
and marshes have bsen drained. France is not so advanced ; 
many of her departments are still covered with ponds and 
marshes, which render the neighbouring country so un- 
healthy that it is decimated with malarious fevers. Thus 
in La Bresse, a triangle situated between the Saone, the 
Ain and the Rhone, full of ponds and marshes, the 



400 CORSICA. 

average duration of life is only twenty-four years, in some 
parishes only eighteen, instead of thirty-five, the general 
average for France. These ponds are partly artificial, and 
were mostly created in the 16th and 17th century, to pro- 
pagate fish, for which there was a great demand, owing to 
the rigorous observance of the fast days of the Roman 
Church. The ponds are drained off after two years, the 
fish sold, and the bottom cultivated with cereals for two 
years, when they are again laid under water and stocked 
with fish. The French authorities are doing their best to 
do away with these centres of malaria, but meet with great 
resistance from the proprietors and inhabitants, who, as is 
so often the case, cling to the causes of their ill-health and 
premature death, from interested motives. 

The milk of the sheep, as well as that of the goats, is 
largely consumed as an article of diet, both in the shape 
of milk and in that of cheese. It is, I was told, a most 
important resource, especially in the mountain districts > 
and 1 found it very palatable and good. Would not our 
own Highlanders find in the milk of their sheep a valuable 
article of diet? It is, and has been, consumed from time 
immemorial all over Asia in mountain districts, and is 
everywhere greatly esteemed. The large flocks of North 
Britain would offer a bountiful supply of this valuable 
article of food, and the famines which decimate the High- 
lands might thus be rendered less serious. It is true that 
the number of lambs reared would be greatly diminished, 
and, consequently, rents would suffer I 

The Corsicans mix the milk with chestnut-flour. The 
chestnuts are dried in an oven when they fall, in the 
autumn, and when wanted ground into flour. With this 
flour cakes are made and laid on chestnut leaves, which, 
when baked, constitute their principal food. To strangers 
these cakes taste sweet and insipid, but the natives are very 
fond of them. 

In the great primeval forests are to be found wild boars 
and small game in abundance. In the higher mountains 
the native race of wild sheep, called mouflons, are met 
with. Their presence in the mountains is a strong attrac- 
tion to enthusiastic sportsmen. In the alluvial plains on 






GAME — SPOUTING. 40 1 

the eastern coast game abounds, and in the autumn and 
winter all kinds of water-fowl are met with in profusion. 
In the early autumn season, however, these districts are 
so very unhealthy that the pursuit of the game would 
probably be followed by severe fever. Game, large and 
small, is more abundant in the southern and eastern parts 
of Corsica, because they are the wildest and most thinly 
inhabited. The long prohibition of firearms, and of legiti- 
mate sport, has not tended to increase the stock of game 
in the neighbourhood of the towns and in the more 
populous parts of the island, but rather the reverse. Not 
being able to shoot game as heretofore, the entire agri- 
cultural population have devoted their energies to trapping, 
and, according to report, with such success as to have 
sensibly diminished its numbers. 

Such I found Corsica. To me on each of my three 
visits it has proved a most enjoyable and fascinating- 
country. The ten or twelve weeks that I have thus spent 
travelling in this lovely island have been among the 
pleasantest of my life, and I trust that the description 
given will lead many to visit its hospitable shores. 

What I have said will show there is in Corsica much to 
study and interest, as well as much to admire. It is new 
untrodden ground, a country in a state of transition, emerg- 
ing from the barbarism of the Middle Ages in this the nine- 
teenth century, as the Highlands of Scotland did in the 
eighteenth. The firm establishment of law and public 
security will surely regenerate the country here as elsewhere. 
There are not now three outlaws in the entire island ; life 
and property are as safe as in any department of France, or 
any county of England, and once the fact is known capital 
will begin to flow into Corsica, and will fertilize it as the 
Nile fertilizes Egypt. The climate is good, the soil is 
fertile, the natural resources great ; but, although situated 
at the very door of Europe, all are still dormant for the want 
of capital. 

The French Government has done a deal already for this 
island ; indeed, it has cost France several millions in public 
works since its first occupation, a hundred years ago (June, 
1769). The money, however, is well invested, and it is to 

D D 



402 CORSICA. 

be hoped that the authorities will not hesitate to complete 
what has been commenced. Once the roads in course of 
construction and contemplated are finished, no doubt assist- 
ance will be given to the proprietors to bring the valleys 
into cultivation by drainage, and to secure a proper outlet 
for the rivers. To keep the rivers open and to preserve 
the plains from inundation is beyond the resource or know- 
ledge of a peasant proprietary. It should and must be done 
by the Government engineers, as in the Roman and Grecian 
States in former days. A channel for the river should be 
formed and carried into deep water, and its entrance occa- 
sionally dredged. Works of this kind have been successfully 
carried out at the mouth of the river Liamone, near Ajaccio, 
with great benefit to the adjoining country. 

M. le Comte de Grandchamps, an eminent French en- 
gineer, has entered at length into this question, and into 
all others connected with the material prosperity of Corsica, 
in a very valuable work, which I can cordially recommend 
to those who feel interested in the subject. His book is 
entitled " La Corse ; sa colonisation et son role dans la 
Mediterranee. Seconde edition. 1859." 

Several of the most enlightened and energetic Corsican 
proprietors whom I met with told me that however anxious 
they might be to utilize the natural resources and fertility 
of their country, they could not do it for want of capital, 
for there was none in the country. They had land, good 
land, and plenty of it, but no money ; so the land remained 
covered with maquis, and merely gave them a bare physical 
maintenance- What was wanted was for continental 
capitalists to bring money into the island. 

- I certainly saw in the neighbourhood of Bastia, perhaps 
the only town in Corsica where there is any capital, mar- 
vellous results from its employment. Land purchased at 
say four or five pounds an acre, cleared and planted, was 
said to have become worth five times the money spent on 
it, in the course of half a dozen years. 

I would recommend all who feel disposed to make a tour 
in Corsica to read carefully Gregorovius' " Wanderings 
in Corsica, its History and its Heroes." As I have stated, 
it is a most charming book, even for tarry-at-home tra- 



WORKS ON CORSICA. 403 

vellers. Another useful work for intending tourists, is a 
little book entitled " Notes on the Island of Corsica/' by 
Miss T. Campbell, which contains a deal of useful infor- 
mation. Miss Campbell has been now a winter resident at 
Ajaccio for many years, and has devoted all her time and 
all her energies to furthering the advancement of Ajaccio, 
and its colonization by the British. I must also mention 
Mr. Thomas Forester's " Rambles in the Islands of Corsica 
and Sardinia/' and Mr. Edward Lear's '* Journal of a 
Landscape Painter in Corsica." Both these works are very 
interesting, and contain much valuable information. The 
first edition of Mr. Forester's book appeared in 1858; a 
second edition has since been published. Mr. Lear's work 
contains numerous wood engravings of Corsican scenery, 
which well sustain his reputation as an eminent artist. 
Murray has, also, published one of his valuable Guides, on 
Corsica. For the days and hours of departure of steamers 
" Bradshaw's Continental Guide" for the month should be 
consulted, as they vary from year to year. Thus prepared, 
the traveller will be sure to gain both pleasure and informa- 
tion from an excursion in this most picturesque island. 

Those who are afraid of the sea can both go and return 
by Leghorn and Bastia. Corsica and Sardinia act as a 
western breakwater to the coast of Italy, so that the 
channel between the islands and Italy is a much calmer 
sea than the more open space between Ajaccio and Mar- 
seilles. In the spring months of April, May, and June, this 
part of the Mediterranean is often calm for weeks together. 
I should again advise no one to go to Corsica in early 
autumn, on account of the malaria which still prevails in 
many parts of the coast that the traveller would wish to 
visit. 

A railroad from Bastia to Bonifacio, along the eastern 
coast, has long been discussed, and will, it is said, be very 
shortly constructed. Such a line would not be a very expen- 
sive one to make, as the country is flat nearly all the way, a 
plain at the foot of the mountains. When completed it 
will contribute greatly to the prosperity of the island, con- 
necting the north with the south. At present there is but 
jttle intercourse; most of my Bastia friends had never 

d d 2 



404 CORSICA. 

been to Bonifacio, and knew nothing personally of the re- 
sources of the southern part of the island. Moreover, as 
the Straits of Bonifacio are not wide, and the Sardinian 
railway will soon be open from Porto Torres to Cagliari, 
Corsica may hope to see northern tourists choose this route 
on their way to the southern regions of the Mediterranean. 

The best time, no doubt, to visit Corsica is in the spring, 
as I have done, say from the 1st of April to the 15th of 
May. In my three visits, extending over nearly three 
months, I never had one single bad day, not one day of 
wind, cloud, or rain. Mr. Murray in his Guide says that I 
am too enthusiastic, and give rather too favourable an 
account of Corsica. I can only add that I have described 
it most truthfully as I found it in April and early May. 
I must, however, repeat, that I advise no real invalid, 
whose life is actually at stake, to venture in either this or 
any other new country out of the beaten track, not even 
into Sutherlandshire or the Hebrides, unless on a visit to 
a local magnate. 

It is worthy of remark that all southern localities and 
towns are more healthy, and consequently safer to visit in 
spring than in autumn. In spring they have gone through 
the winter rains and frosts, which have cleansed and puri- 
fied them. Thus, Rome and Naples may be visited much 
more safely by pleasure tourists in February, March, and 
April, than in November, December, and January. Another 
important point is, that the sea is often calm at this time of 
the year in the north regions of the Mediterranean, although 
not in the south, as I know to my cost. The south of Europe, 
also, is everywhere much more beautiful in spring than in 
autumn. In April and May, all that has been written by 
the poets is indeed realized and found to be thoroughly true. 
We may, then, without reserve, surrender our minds to the 
enjoyment of the poetic beauties of early spring, which we 
can so seldom do in our own northern and treacherous 
climate. 



CHAPTEE XII. ; 

SICILY. 

" Usee loca vi quondam et vasta convulsa ruina 
(Tantum aevi longinqua valet mutare vetustas) 
Dissiluisse ferunt : cum protiuus utraque tellus 
Una foret ; venit medio vi pontus, et undis 
Hesperium Siculo latus abscidit : arvaque et urbes 
Littore diductas angusto interluit restu. 
Dextrum Scylla latus, lsevuni implacata Charybdis 
Obsidet." Ylrg-. Mn. iii. 

THE DEPARTmE — CLIMATE AS SHOES' BY VEGETATION — PALERMO — 
MESSINA — CATANIA — M0UXT ETNA — SYRACUSE — THE RETLRN. 

In the course of the winter of 186:2-63 the desire to visit 
Sicily took possession of me. I had been attending 1 some 
Russian ladies who had passed the previous winter at 
Catania, and also some of my countrymen who had spent 
some months at Palermo. All were loud in praise of these 
cities, and insisted that the climate of Sicily was much 
superior to that of the Riviera. Thus the uncomfortable 
idea occurred to me that after all I might not have dis- 
covered in Mentone the best locality in which to spend the 
winter, so I determined to pass a few weeks in Sicily at the 
close of our season, and to judge for myself. 

As the time for departure approached I began to look 
around for one or two companions. Many volunteers 
offered, but one by one they all drew back, from some cause 
or other, with the exception of some enthusiastic young 
ladies, whom I could not possibly take, until at last I had 
to start alone. I cannot say, however, that I was quite 
abandoned, for on the morning of my departure for Genoa 
a dear little girl of six, the child of some valued friends, 
came to me with a small bundle. I had asked her repeatedly 
to accompany me, but she had always refused, saving that 
she could not possibly leave her mamma. " Dear Pr 



SIC ILIA ( SICILY) 




Grave -par Erhard ,12 , r.T>a^uay~ Trouin Par 



406 SICILY. 

Bennet/' she began, " I cannot Lear to see you going to 
Sicily all alone, with no one to take care of you, so I have 
made up my mind to leave mamma, and to go with you. I 
have packed up my things, and I am quite ready." It is 
singular at how early an age children show the charac- 
teristics that will stamp them throughout life. It is marvel- 
lous, also, what power a tiny child has to please and attach 
its seniors, or to repel them. 

Although I at last departed alone, it was not without 
having many friends to see me off, and to wish me a 
prosperous journey. I am, indeed, struck every year by the 
great contrast that exists between the arrival and the 
departure of the winter visitors. This is more especially 
the case at the house that I inhabit, where there are nearly 
a hundred residents, most of whom are invalids and their 
friends settled down for the winter. When the " poor 
exiles" arrive all is new and strange, and, generally speak- 
ing, there is no one to receive them but one of the waiters. 
But the state of things is very different on departure in 
spring, after a six months } sojourn. The isolation has ceased, 
for the house has become full of friends, with whom it is a 
kind of conscientious duty to see the traveller off. Then 
comes such a shaking of hands, such a waving of hand- 
kerchiefs, as makes the departure a complete ovation. Nor 
is this "well wishing" confined to friends new and old. 
The host and hostess and dependents seem to consider it a 
duty to take a part in the ceremony, and express their good 
wishes with a cordiality and familiarity strange to our cold 
northern ways. 

Six months' confinement within the limits of even pic- 
turesque Mentone is an admirable preparation for such a 
journey as the one I was undertaking. Starting on a 
beautiful April morning — and April weather is always 
beautiful in this part of the world — once the regret of 
leaving friends has subsided, an exhilarating sense of free- 
dom, of liberty, steals over the mind. To the invalid who 
departs from his winter retreat with restored or improved 
health j intense thankfulness is mingled with this feeling. 
Nearly always the air is warm and balmy, yet fresh and 
pleasant, the sun shines brightly in the clear blue sky, and 



DEPARTURE — ROAD TO GENOA. 407 

the vegetation is that of July with us. When the Riviera 
road is chosen, as the carriage progresses, the eye glances 
involuntarily from the white clouds on the far off horizon, 
hanging on the mountains of Corsica a hundred miles away, 
to the sparkling sea, to the now familiar forms of vege- 
tation on the roadside, and to the olive-covered mountains 
which tower high above the shore. 

The Riviera road winds in and out along the beach, at 
times ascending many hundred feet, at times descending 
to the sea-leveL Ridges of rock, through which it passes, 
jut out into the waves, like mountain backbones or but- 
tresses, showing at a glance the geological stratifications. 
Isolated rocks, some large some small, rise out bodily from 
the sea, generally at the boundary or entrance of pretty 
bays, sometimes in their centre. When the road ascends a 
hundred feet above the shore level, the outline and shape 
of the pebbles and boulders at the bottom of the sea, near 
the beach, are seen with singular plainness. The eye, at 
that height, pierces the water and sees the stones at the 
bottom of the sea, as in one of Creswiek's pictures of a 
trout or salmon stream. Picturesque grey villages and 
towns are frequently passed, generally consisting of one 
large narrow street along the shore. They are composed 
of old, primitive, tall, quaint-looking houses, and their 
inhabitants form very artistic groups under the porches. 
A source of surprise to us meat-loving northerners is the 
absence of butchers' shops, for I only counted two be- 
tween Mentone and Genoa. Nothing is seen exposed for 
sale in the eatable line, but bread, maccaroni, dried beans, 
chestnuts, wine and oil, evidently the staples of the 
country. 

Genoa, the Superb, is seen many hours before it is 
reached, seated, amphitheatre wise, at the base of a moun- 
tain in the centre of its wide sea-like bay. As the traveller 
approaches, life becomes more active, the villages and towns 
are more numerous, as are the people who inhabit them. 
Great ships are building on the beach, on the very road, as 
it were, and inspire the passing traveller with wonder as to 
how they are to be got into the sea. Female figures 
become more and more numerous, looking very picturesque 



408 SICILY. 

from their bead dress. The Genoese women of the middle 
class wear on their heads a thin gossamer white or black 
scarf. It is fastened to the hair and comb, and hangs 
gracefully down on both sides. The women of the lower 
class wear, in the same style, gaudy, many-coloured cotton 
scarfs. Indeed, the love of vivid colours seems to increase 
as we descend south. Red assumes a prominent feature in 
the dress of the women, and the large umbrellas are gene- 
rally of the same vivid hue. The outsides of the houses, 
also, are ornamented with frescoes, which reproduce all the 
colours of the rainbow, and give great animation to the 
scene. Vividness in colour probably becomes an actual 
want to southerners, accustomed to intense light, to the 
glare of a southern sun ; whilst northerners, accustomed 
to sombre skies and to subdued light, are satisfied with 
more subdued colours — to green, grey, and black. Soon 
we reach the busy suburbs of a great city, and in a few 
minutes more we are in the middle of one of the greatest 
commercial marts of the Mediterranean. 

By far the best way of reaching Palermo is from Mar- 
seilles by one of the Messageries Maritimes Alexandria 
boats, which touches at Palermo every fortnight. From 
Genoa the route is by Naples, between which and Sicily 
there is frequent communication, so I was obliged to go by 
way of Naples. This, however, I did not regret, for it 
gave me the opportunity of paying another visit to 
Pompeii, which is always seen with renewed pleasure. 
Only one-third of the town of former days has been 
revealed, and as excavations are constantly going on, 
every year there are fresh objects of interest to be seen. 
On this occasion I was shown a singular group of several 
ligures just discovered, a woman, a man, and a girl, in the 
very act of flying from the shower of ashes, when they 
were overtaken and smothered. The moulds were found in 
a state of complete preservation, and owing to this circum- 
stance the curators were enabled to make a plaster cast, 
which vividly brings to mind the actual event. Every 
muscular contortion, every detail of shape, is distinctly 
brought out in this vivid and ghastly group, now pre- 
served in the Museum at Pompeii. I also saw a recently 



ITALIAN PASSENGERS — A PARTING SCENE. 409 

uncovered subterranean water channel, some four feet wide, 
and two deep, in which a considerable body of cool pellucid 
water is seen running rapidly to the sea. A few feet only 
of the roof had been taken off, and I looked down with in- 
terest on this stream of pure water, collected from the ad- 
joining mountains more than eighteen centuries ago, for 
the use of the town, and which during all that period has 
been running unseen, hidden in the bosom of the earth, 
buried with the city it was intended to supply. 

There is a steamer every other day from Naples to 
Palermo, and the sea being calm, and the barometer all 
right, I went on board, the 15th of April, at 6 p.m. I 
was the only Englishman on deck, so having nothing else 
to do I amused myself by watching my companions. 

There were many Italians among the passengers, and 
many partings were taking place. I was interested and 
pleased to see how strong the affection tie evidently was 
between those departing and those left behind, and how 
utterly regardless all appeared to be of the rules which 
restrain the public manifestation of feeling in England. 
Grown-up people cried and kissed each other again and 
again, without the smallest effort at concealment. 

One group more especially attracted my attention ; a 
young Neapolitan bride, with her husband and younger 
brother, as I afterwards learnt, were taking leave of the 
family of the former, on their departure for Palermo, where 
the bridegroom resided. There was a boat-load of the 
young lady's family, father and mother, and three or four 
sisters. Such sobbing and crying I never saw before. The 
poor mother and sisters were absolutely convulsed with 
grief, and could scarcely articulate for their sobs. The 
captain was positively obliged to have them removed from 
the vessel when we started, for they could not be per- 
suaded to leave, and even then they kept waving their 
handkerchiefs from the boat, and breaking out into fresh 
paroxysms of grief as long as we could see them. The 
lather was as weak as the lady members of his family. I 
found him, accidentally, in the steward's cabin, taking 
leave of his younger son, a big boy of fourteen, with sobs 
and tears and passionate embraces. No one on board 



410 SICILY. 

seemed to think it at all strange ; on the contrary, I heard 
on all sides kind Italian expressions of sympathy and 
interest. The bride cried as hard as the rest at the parting, 
but she soon wiped her eyes and smiled through her tears 
when her relatives were out of sight, seeming to find ample 
compensation in the loving looks and kind speeches of her 
young husband. So it is in most departures, those who 
are left behind are the most to be pitied. The new scenes 
and interests that surround those who depart, tend, if not 
to console them, at least to draw their thoughts into other 
channels. 

The next morning I was up early, and on deck soon after 
six. Our course had been prosperous, and I was informed 
that we should be at our destination by ten. Already 
the mountains of Sicily were faintly visible on the horizon. 
The morning was lovely, the air pure and clear, and scarcely 
a wave on the sea, except those we made ourselves, as we 
steadily pursued our way, displacing the shining heaving 
waters. There were only sailors on deck, with the ex- 
ception of a fat, burly, florid-faced man in a dirty white 
vest, sitting, with . a look of great composure and self- 
satisfaction, by the side of the engines. In his hands were 
half a loaf of bread and a huge piece of meat, and with a 
clasp-knife he kept cutting off slice after slice, evidently 
much to his own gratification. I at once, by his appear- 
ance and occupation, recognised a countryman, and lost no 
time in making his acquaintance. 

I found him very affable, and soon learnt his history. 
Like my friend of the Virgilio, he was the engineer of the 
steamer, and also a fair specimen of the philosophical 
roving Englishman. His idea of his duty to himself was 
to obtain as good pay with as easy a berth as he could, and 
in order to accomplish this he was prepared to go to any 
part of the habitable globe. Indeed, there were few regions 
of the world, he said, to which he had not been, and to 
which he was not perfectly ready to go, if he found it to 
his advantage. A few months previous, on returning from 
China, he had been offered this vessel, and at the same time 
a new steamer going out to run on the Spanish coast. 
The pay was the same in both cases, but he preferred 



ANOTHER ENGLISH ENGINEER. 411 

the present vessel, an old one, because old engines, when 
good, work easily, and give no trouble, whereas new 
eugines, for the first year or two, give a great deal of 
trouble. If they had offered him more pay he would 
have taken the new ship ; but he was too old a hand to 
bother himself with new engines when he could get the 
same money for attending to old ones, that would work of 
themselves without any trouble. In uttering this senti- 
ment he shut one eye, and gave me a knowing wink, as if 
mentally applauding his own judgment. 

I expressed approval of his decision, and inquired if he 
was comfortable on board, and was satisfied with his situa- 
tion. " Perfectly," he answered ; " the vessel and engines 
were good, although nothing to look at : and although 
he did not know much of their c lingo/ he managed to 
.make his stokers (Italians) understand him. Bat then/ 3 
he added, " I don't let the captain interfere with me, my 
engine-room, or my men. He tried it on at first, but I 
soon showed him that it would not do. One of my men 
was lazy, so, on arriving at Xaples, I made him pack up 
his things, called a boat, shoved him overboard, and told 
him to come back at his peril. I had to go ashore that 
morning, and on my return to the vessel I found that the 
captain had engaged another man as stoker. This I could 
not stand, for I consider that the captain has nothing what- 
ever to do with the engine-room, where I am master, and I 
always engage my men myself. So I shoved this man off, 
like the other, and went myself to the owners of the ship to 
tell them what I had done. I found the captain at the office, 
and he flew into a towering rage when he heard that I had 
turned his man out of the ship. My reply was that I was 
master in the engine-room, and meant to remain so ; that 
I was responsible for the men's work, and that I was con- 
sequently the proper one to choose them ; that I would 
have no interference, and that if the power to choose and 
dismiss the stokers was not left with me, I would not put 
my foot in the vessel again. They fretted and fumed, but 
had to give way, for I was serious, and meant what I said ; 
and ever since I have been master, and the captain, does 
not try to interfere. You see, sir, I was right, and they 



412 SICILY. 

all knew it. I am not going to have a set of lazy Italian 
louts about me ; they must do their work properly, or go 
about their business." 

I have reproduced this little incident because it illus- 
trates, as does the history of the engineer of the Virgilio, 
mentioned in a former chapter, some of the characteristic 
features of the Anglo-Saxon race. From the peer to the 
peasant we are all alike, all ready to go to any part of the 
habitable globe to better our social position, and we all 
show the same tendency to prefer the tangible to the ideal. 
In other words, as a race, we show a singular combination — 
a love for adventure and romance, and a keen appreciation 
of material advantage wherever it is to be found. More- 
over, wherever we are we make ourselves happy and are 
contented, supported by an intense conviction of our 
superiority over all around us, and by a philosophical belief 
that it is our bounden duty to make ourselves as comfort- 
able as is possible under the circumstances in which we are 
placed. 

My new friend, having completed his breakfast, said he 
must go and look after his engines, and, descending the 
engine-room ladder, left me once more alone. By this 
time my fellow passengers had nearly all made their 
appearance, and were walking up and down the deck, in 
twos and threes, enjoying the pleasant fragrance of the 
early morn at sea. I was determined to bring my solitary 
condition to a close, so commenced looking around for " a 
future acquaintance." 

Children and dogs are first-rate physiognomists. The 
former instinctively, as it were, find out who really like 
them, and do not hesitate to make the first advances. A 
lost dog will scan the features of those who pass him in 
the street, and having determined, in his inner mind, that 
he has found a benevolently inclined human being, will 
follow him pertinaciously to his home — an attention which 
I have always considered to be a great compliment, if paid 
to myself. When I am travelling alone I imitate both 
the children and the dogs. I scan the physiognomies of 
my fellow travellers, and when I have found one that is 



TRAVELLING COMPANIONS. 413 

" sympathetic" I make an advance, which I very seldom 
find repelled. 

On the voyage from Genoa to Naples, I thus made a 
very agreeable acquaintance, that of an intellectual and 
refined gentleman, a coffee planter from Ceylon. His his- 
tory quite corroborates what I have said of the go-ahead 
energy of the Anglo-Saxon race when speaking of my two 
engineer friends. Whilst at Oxford, a relation left him 
several coffee plantations in Ceylon. He put aside his 
classics, Homer and Horace, and went off to Ceylon to take 
possession of the newly acquired property. Once there he 
threw all his energies into the fresh career, so little conso- 
nant with former studies and occupations, and had, conse- 
quently, been very successful. He had passed many years 
in his new home, and merely left six months previous, to 
spend a winter in England, on health grounds. In a few 
years more he expected to have acquired a sufficient fortune 
to return for good to England, but in the meanwhile Ceylon 
was his home, his field of battle, and to Ceylon he was 
returning. Most Frenchmen would have sold the estates 
for what they would have fetched, and would have gone on 
with their home career, in "La belle France" but such is 
not the Anglo-Saxon impulse. 

We became great friends, and passed a few days together 
very agreeably at Naples. I shall not easily forget the 
pleasure with which he looked at a young oak in leaf at 
Capri. He had not, he said, seen an oak leaf for many 
years, for the oaks had lost their foliage when he reached 
England in the autumn. He left it to me to decide whether 
he should accompany me to Sicily, or go on to Rome. 
Having only ten days to spare, he could not do both, and 
I take great credit to myself for having sacrificed my own 
wishes to what I considered his advantage, in advising him 
to prefer the " eternal city." Thus it was that I was 
t( alone" on the voyage to Palermo. 

On this occasion four Germans, evidently travelling 
together, found favour in my eyes, and I at once broke 
the ice by a few trivial remarks on the weather, and on 
our favourable progress. I found them very pleasant, 



414 SICILY. 

amiable people, and we soon became quite friendly. One 
was professor of history in a German university, aad a few 
words about the Grecian antiquities of Sicily, about the 
Phoenicians, the predecessors of the Greeks, and their suc- 
cessors the Romans, Saracens, and Normans, were to his 
ears like the blast of a trumpet to a war-horse, rousing all 
his historical sympathies. Was he not going to Sicily 
with two of his student friends on purpose to study these 
very antiquities ! The fourth was a young German Baron, 
very high and mighty, with a large carpet-bag quite 
covered with crowns and recondite armorial bearings. His 
father was a great man in Germany, the owner of a dozen 
estates, with innumerable quarterings of nobility, and the 
son was treated with much respect by his companions. 
The social state of Sicily, and that of its landed aristocracy, 
still rich and locally powerful, had as great a charm for 
him as had history and antiquity for the learned professor. 
Companions and friends thus secured, for the present at 
least, I was able to give my undivided attention to the fair 
island we were now fast approaching. 

At a distance Sicily appeared to rise from the sea as a 
chain of low mountains, extending from west to east, but 
on a nearer approach the mountain chain gained in ap- 
parent elevation, and a wide bay, that of Palermo, opened 
out as we approached the land from the north-east. In the 
background of the bay a magnificent mountain amphi- 
theatre rises majestically. This amphitheatre has a circuit 
of twenty-nine miles, and is limited by a bold range of lime- 
stone mountains which encircle it down to the sea, forming, 
by their last spurs or projections, Mount Pellegrino on the 
west, and Mount Catalfano on the east; they constitute 
the arms or limits of the bay itself. 

The first mountain barrier that forms the amphitheatre 
is about, three thousand feet high, but successive ridges 
rise above each other towards the south, until a height of 
six thousand feet is attained. It is to the fertile plain, 
encircled by this noble amphitheatre of mountains, that 
has been given, from time immemorial, the name of Conca 
d'c-ro, or the Golden Shell. The width of the bay itself, 



ARRIVAL AT PALERMO. 415 

from Mount Pellegrino to Mount Catalfano, is eight miles ; 
following the course of the bay it is twelve miles. 

The town of Palermo, lat. 38° 6', population 219,000, is 
situated on the shore of the bay, at the junction of the 
western third with the eastern two-thirds. It is built on 
each side of a long and fine street, the Via Toledo, which, 
beginning at the marina or beach, ascends gently inland 
towards the mountains, so that the city forms a paral- 
lelogram, and is long and narrow as compared with its 
width. The port, which used to be much larger and deeper 
in former days, runs quite into the town. As it is too 
shallow now for large vessels, the latter anchor inside a 
mole or jetty, built outside the old port. 

The view of Palermo as we approached, on a clear, fresh 
sunny spring morning, was really very beautiful. The 
grand range of mountains in the background, reaching the 
sea on each side of the bay, and all but encircling the vast 
and fertile plain, the large white city, with its numerous 
cathedrals and churches, shining in the southern sun, the 
wide tree-planted esplanade or marina, the deep blue water 
of the sea, all combine to create a scene of loveliness and 
grandeur which remains ever after engraved on the memory. 

Nor was the favourable impression destroyed or weakened 
on landing. The shore, which is laid out as a promenade 
and drive, and planted with fine trees, just coming into leaf 
when we arrived, is bordered by handsome houses, among 
which is the famed Trinacria Hotel, one of the best in 
Italy. Ragusa, the landlord, lived long, in early days, 
with English noblemen, and knows the wants and require- 
ments of our countrymen, which he does his best to meet 
and supply. The rooms are clean and well furnished, and 
the front ones have a fine view of the sea and bay, the one 
drawback being that they look direct north. 

Once comfortably installed, my first thought was for 
the state of the vegetation. The principal motive of my 
visit to Sicily being to study the winter climate as demon- 
strated by the vegetable world, I was anxious not to lose 
a day in commencing the survey. I therefore drove at 
once to the Botanical Garden. After examining it carefully 



416 SICILY. 

I devoted the rest of the day, as also part of each day that 
I remained, to the study of the meteorological position, and 
of the vegetable productions of the plain that surrounds 
Palermo. 

My intention being to compare the vegetation of the 
Riviera with that of Sicily at the same epoch of the year, I 
had carefully analysed it at Men tone and along the Riviera, 
when I left the one and passed through the other, on the 
11th of April. I had also travelled rapidly in order that 
only a few days might elapse between the date of my de- 
parture and that of my arrival in Sicily, where I landed 
on the 17th. 

The geological character of the soil is the same, cal- 
careous in both regions. The great difference is that the 
Riviera is protected from the north by mountains, over 
which come dry, cold winds, and is open to the southern 
sun, and to the south winds after they have crossed the 
Mediterranean — whereas Palermo is exposed, without any 
protection whatever, to the north, north-east, and north- 
west winds, which must pass over the Mediterranean to 
reach it, the amphitheatre formed by the barrier of moun- 
tains opening out towards the north. 

The result of this investigation was the conviction 
that the more southern latitude of Palermo, without 
mountain protection from the north, gives to it as warm a 
winter climate as the Riviera enjoys with protection from 
the north, but not a warmer one. The two regions seem 
to be singularly identical, considering the distance that 
separates them, as regards the character of their vegeta- 
tion and its development, but their climates are very 
different in other respects. The situation of Palermo, in 
the southern part of the Mediterranean and on the north 
shore of Sicily, gives it necessarily a moist winter climate 
instead of a dry one like that of the Riviera. I will now 
explain the data on which these views are founded. 
Palermo being one of the most renowned health climates 
in the south of Europe every feature connected with it 
offers great interest. 

In the open plain south of the town, with a thoroughly 
northern exposure, but sheltered to a certain extent by 






VEGETATION AT PALERMO. 417 

the city itself, I found (April 17th) the same evergreen 
tree vegetation as in the more sheltered regions of the 
Riviera — large Lemon, Orange, and Carouba trees, growing 
freely and luxuriantly as timber trees. It was quite evi- 
dent that in descending south I had reached a region 
where latitude alone gave the immunity from frost that 
on the Riviera is secured merely by sun exposure and 
exceptional shelter from the north, an immunity necessary 
to the well-being of these trees. Still, even here, the 
Lemon and Orange groves were at some distance from the 
sea, and occupied the more sun-exposed and sheltered points 
of the plain at the foot of the mountains ; they were, more- 
over, all but invariably surrounded by high walls. These 
walls were destined, evidently, not only to protect the fruit 
and trees from spoliation, but also to shield them from the 
north or sea winds. 

The deciduous trees were still behindhand, indeed 
scarcely as far advanced as I had left them on the Riviera 
six days previous. The Hawthorn had not blossomed, and 
the Fig, Mulberry, and Plane trees were only just begin- 
ning to show their leaves. Many deciduous trees peculiar 
to the south were totally devoid of leaves. 

The Botanical Garden is only a hundred yards from the 
shore, on the east side of the city, and although it has no 
other protection from the north and from the sea breeze, 
than that afforded by a five- feet wall, the spring flower 
vegetation was in exactly the same state of advancement 
that I had left it in the most sheltered nooks of the 
Riviera, such as Monaco, Mentone, San Remo, and Alassio. 
At the same time these flowers were certainly neither 
more advanced nor more numerous. 

Thus, I found in it, as also in the fine garden of the 
Princess Butera, and in several others which I visited, the 
following flowers in full bloom : Salvia, Iris, Rose, Bengal 
and Banksia, Wallflower, Anemone, Petunia, Verbena, 
Mignonette, Sunflower, Gladiolus, Spiraea, Nasturtium, 
Poppy, Marigold, Geranium, Candytuft, Hollyhock (three 
feet high, but not in blossom), Stock, Carnation, Tulip, 
Peony, Auricula, Cyclamen, Eschscholtzia, Judas tree, 
Chestnut tree, Elder tree, Hawthorn (about to blossom), 

E L 



418 SICILY. 

Alyssum, shrubby Euphorbias, Jasminum revolutum, 
Nettles, and Asphodel. All these flowers, shrubs, and 
trees I had left equally advanced and flourishing six days 
previously on the Riviera. 

Peaches were set as large as small walnuts, Strawberries 
were served in profusion at every meal at the hotel. 
Oranges were numerous and first-rate, sweet and juicy. 
I may here mention that throughout Sicily it is the 
custom to eat strawberries along with sugar and the juice 
of an orange or two. The strawberries, what we should 
call wild or mountain strawberries, come to table without 
their stalks, are crushed with white pounded sugar, and 
the juice of an orange is squeezed over them. The result 
is a most fragrant and agreeable compound, much superior, 
in my opinion, to strawberries and cream. Indeed, I 
think it is all but worth while to make a journey to Sicily 
to be initiated into this mode of eating strawberries. 

The flowers above named are those that bloom in our 
climate between April and the early part of* July. Some, 
the early kinds, such as Anemones, were going off; others, 
and principally our June flowers, were in full luxuriance. 
This advanced condition of spring and early summer flower 
vegetation, and the rather late and retarded state of the 
deciduous tree vegetation, indicate the warm days and 
rather cold nights, without absolute frost, that characterize, 
in winter, the protected regions of the south of Europe. 
The sun is ardent, and warms the surface of the soil, but 
the nights are cool, not to say cold, and the sun-heat does 
not penetrate deep enough into the earth to reach the 
roots of the trees until the spring be far advanced. 

The Botanical Garden itself, at Palermo, although in- 
teresting, was in rather a neglected state, and showed the 
want of energetic modern direction. The plants were still 
classified according to the Linnsean system, as at the be- 
ginning of this century. All the trees, shrubs, and plants 
in the ground were unlabelled, and part only of those in 
pots were so honoured. Many of the labels themselves 
were illegible from rust and time. Indeed, the garden struck 
me as being in a great measure left to common gardeners, 
and wanting the direction of a scientific modern botanist. 



RAINFALL AT PALERMO. 419 

On surveying narrowly the shore and the sides of the 
mountains, I was struck by the absence of the scarred, 
water-worn ravines which are seen at every mile along the 
Riviera, or along the sides and at the foot of the Apen- 
nines, and which are the evidence, in stones, of the tropical 
rains of these regions. Moreover, the sides of the western 
sun-exposed mountains were clothed with verdure from 
their base to their summit, more like the basaltic hills of 
the west coast of Scotland than the sunburnt, naked 
summits of the Riviera mountains, the geological forma- 
tion being in both cases the same, calcareous. 

To my now rather experienced eye the verdure of the 
mountain sides, and the absence of water-worn ravines, 
indicate a moister climate than that of the Riviera, and 
betoken rain falling oftener and less abruptly. On inquiry 
from Dr. Moscuzza, a leading physician of Palermo, and a 
very enlightened, experienced man, and on consulting 
Professor Scina's valuable work on the meteorology and 
climate of Palermo (" La Topografia di Palermo e de' suoi 
Contorni, 1818") which Dr. Moscuzza gave me, 1 found 
that such is really the case, that the winter climate of 
Palermo is mild, but damp and moist. 

At Palermo, according to Professor Scina, there are 
131 days in which rain falls, and these rainy days are 
principally in the winter. At Malaga there are only 40, 
at Nice 60, at Mentone 80, and even in London only 145. 
Yet only 21 inches of rain fall at Palermo, which is about 
the average of London ; that of Nice being 25, that of 
Algiers 36. These facts prove that the rain must be more 
continued, more mizzling, more like that of the northern 
regions of Europe, than is the case on the north shore of 
the Mediterranean. 

The greater rainfall at Palermo, as compared with 
that of the northern shore of the Mediterranean, and the 
moist character of its winter climate, are explained by its 
geographical position. The north-east and north-west 
winds, which principally reign in winter, have had their 
moisture precipitated before they reach the Mediterranean 
by the snow-covered mountains of the south of Europe — 
of Italy, of Corsica, Sardinia, and Spain. The moisture 

E e 2 



420 SICILY, 

which they contain when they reach Sicily is merely what 
they have picked up on their subsequent passage over a 
portion of the Mediterranean. Again, the first ridge 
of the mountains which form the Palermo amphi- 
theatre not being very high, nor their temperature very 
low, owing to the latitude, a part only of this moisture 
is there condensed and gently precipitated. As the 
northern winds, which bring these mild rains, have crossed 
in winter, as we have seen, the snow-clad summits of the 
Apennines, Alps, and Pyrenees, and of the mountain ridges 
of Spain, of Corsica, and of Sardinia, they would be much 
colder were they not warmed by passing over a track of 
warm sea. 

The above facts clearly point out the character of the 
winter climate of Palermo. It cannot be very cold — 
indeed, it can scarcely ever freeze, as the Lemon-tree thrives, 
becoming a large tree, in the open air, and a few degrees 
of frost kill it. The nights, however, being cool from 
December to April, and the sun-heat being considerable, 
the daily transition of temperature must be marked, as on 
the Riviera. But instead of being dry and bracing, as is 
the climate of the north Mediterranean coast, the climate 
of Palermo must be rather moist and relaxing. On refer- 
ring to Professor Scina's work, I find these deductions 
thoroughly carried out by the data he advances. 

The mean winter temperature of Palermo, like that of 
Naples, is higher by some degrees than that of the Riviera. 
I presume that in both localities this fact is owing to the 
greater heat of the day, and to the lesser cold of the night. 
Moist nights are always warmer than dry clear nights 
with north winds ; it is partly due, also, to the occasional 
prevalence of the scirocco, or south-east wind from the 
African desert. This wind always greatly raises the tem- 
perature everywhere while it lasts, and is a source of much 
discomfort and distress to the entire community, to the 
sound as well as to the unsound. Indeed, the increasing 
heat and the more pernicious character of this African 
wind, as we go south, in the western regions of the 
Mediterranean, to a certain extent counterbalance the 
advantages which may be gained in other respects, 



WINTER CLIMATE OF PALERMO. 421 

Such, a winter climate — temperate, sunny, and rather 
moist — may be beneficial to a certain class of patients, to 
highly nervous, excitable, impressionable constitutions, too 
much braced and stimulated by the dry tonic atmosphere 
of the Riviera, and with whom the bracing, stimulating 
climate of Cannes, Nice, Mentone,, or of the east coast 
of Spain, does not agree. But I do not think it possibly 
can be as beneficial to those who require invigorating and 
vitalizing, to those who are suffering, like the phthisical, 
from defective nutrition and lowered vitality. In the earlier 
and curable stages of phthisis I am persuaded that the dry 
invigorating climate of the Riviera, or of eastern Spain, is 
far preferable in the great majority of cases. 

I should, however, be inclined to advise a trial of the 
climate of Palermo, in preference to the north or east coast 
of the Mediterranean, in severe cases of spasmodic inter- 
mittent neuralgia, in spasmodic idiopathic asthma, and in 
cases of phthisis accompanied by much nervous irritability, 
or by a constant tendency to haemorrhage. These are the 
forms of disease that do not appear to do well with us on 
the Riviera ; and if the cause is the dry, and to them the 
exciting_, character of the climate, it stands to reason- that 
an equally mild and a more moist atmosphere may be what 
they require. The winter climate of Palermo appears to 
hold a medium position between that of Pau and that of 
Madeira. It is much warmer than Pau, and much colder 
than Madeira — at least, the nights are much colder. 

From what precedes it is evident that the climate of 
Palermo cannot take the place of that of the Genoese 
Riviera, and that it is not as suited to the common run of 
consumptive cases. At the same time it is equally clear 
that there are some forms of disease in which it is specially 
indicated, and in which it may be of great use, and that 
more especially when the Riviera fails to afford relief. 

Palermo is by far the largest and the most interesting 
city in Sicily. The beauty of the amphitheatre in which it 
is situated, and the shelter afforded by its port, larger and 
better in olden times than now, have always made it an 
important and favourite city. When the Greeks, the Car- 
thaginians, and the Romans successively occupied Sicily, 



422 sicily. 

Palermo, however, did not enjoy the same amount of pros- 
perity that it subsequently attained during the reign of the 
Saracens and of the Norman kings, and, later still, under 
the Spanish and Neapolitan kings and viceroys. It was 
the capital of Sicily during the sway of these successive 
dynasties, and is replete with the vestiges of their dominion. 
The older churches and palaces — indeed, nearly all the re- 
mains of antiquity — date from Saracenic and Norman 
periods. Many of them are very interesting specimens of 
the Norman architecture of that day, modified by contact 
with the Saracenic, Byzantine, and Greek styles, which 
were in the ascendant when the Normans conquered Sicily. 
The magnificent cathedral of Monreale is the finest example 
extant of this blended, or Siculo-Norman style of archi- 
tecture, as it has been called. 

Sicily, the largest and most fertile island in the Medi- 
terranean, has, like Corsica, been the prey, the battle-field, 
of the various powers that have reigned in the Mediter- 
ranean during historic times. But unlike Corsica, although 
mountainous, it has no primeval forests, no inaccessible 
snow- clad mountains, in which its population could take 
refuge when sorely pressed, and perhaps not such a war- 
like population, so that it was always eventually conquered. 
The Greeks colonized it seven centuries before Christ, and 
built many splendid towns on its southern and eastern 
shores, those nearest to Greece. It is on these shores, at 
Syracuse, Agrigentum, Selinus, Segesta, and elsewhere, 
that are to be seen to this day remains of Grecian temples 
as numerous and almost as splendid as those to be found in 
Greece proper. These prosperous communities excited the 
envy and cupidity of the Carthaginians, the site of whose 
empire, on the opposite African coast, was too near for their 
safety. They were attacked and conquered, but their 
conquerors soon fell before the Romans in the Punic wars, 
and Sicily remained long a part of the Roman empire. 
After the fall of Borne Sicily became subject, successively, 
to the Vandals, to the Byzantines, and to the Saracens, 
always falling into the hands of the strongest. The Nor- 
mans at the time of the Crusades drove the Saracens out of 



HISTORICAL ANTECEDENTS. 423 

the island and established the Norman dynasty. Then 
comes an interminable array of kings and viceroys belong- 
ing to the imperial house of Germany, to the houses of 
Anjou, of Aragon, of Savoy, of Austria, of Spain, of Naples, 
ending in Italia Unita, under the " Re galantuomo," 
Victor Emmanuel, with a more glorious prospect for the 
future than ever. 

Poor Sicily ! The list of its conquerors and governors is 
perfectly oppressive to the imagination. It must indeed be 
a beautiful and fertile country to have been worth so much 
contention in past times. In the days of imperial Rome it 
was often called the granary of the empire, and is still one 
of the most fertile and most favoured spots in the Mediter- 
ranean. Under good government it will, no doubt, in the 
course of time, arrive at a state of prosperity of which its 
present inhabitants have no conception. It has within itself 
all the elements of fertility which made it rich and populous 
in the days of Greece and Rome — a mild, beautiful climate, 
a fertile soil, a splendid position. 

The town of Palermo is very regularly built; the streets 
are wider, handsomer, and cleaner than those of any town 
that I have visited in the south of Europe. In addition to 
the Via Toledo, which passes through the centre from north 
to south, dividing the city into two parts, there is another 
street, equally fine, the " Strada-nuova/' which passes 
through it at right angles to the former, from west to east. 
These two large streets add greatly to the beauty of Palermo, 
and make it easy to find one's way anywhere. There is a 
Moorish character about the architecture even of the private 
houses that gives a great charm to the place, and many of 
the shops are very good. 

The Via Toledo is continued by a road which, emerging 
from the southern extremity of the town, gently ascends 
the plain for four miles, when it reaches the suburban town 
of Monreale, celebrated for its beautiful Siculo-Norman 
cathedral, and often the suburban residence of the Norman 
kings, and of the Spanish viceroys. Monreale being nearly 
two thousand feet above the level of the sea, is cooler than 
Palermo in summer. The views too, on all sides, are very 



424 SICILY. 

eautiful. This road, and those along the shore towards 
Monte Pellegrino and Monte Catalfano, are the favourite 
drives of the Palermitans. 

The road to Monreale is peculiarly picturesque, owing to 
the magnificent scenery of the mountain amphitheatre,, 
which becomes more and more beautiful as we recede from 
the sea, and owing to the extreme luxuriance of the gently 
rising plain on each side. It is the same vegetation that 
we see at Mentone, and in the more sheltered parts of the 
Riviera, but spread out in a wide garden plain, instead of 
occupying a seaside ledge under high mountains. Groves 
of Lemon and Orange trees, interspersed with large stately 
Caroubas and old Olive trees, and thickets of Aloes and 
Prickly-pears, are traversed. The ground, too, when I saw 
it, was one carpet of wild flowers. 

The town of Monreale is of considerable size (popula- 
tion 15,000). It has grouped itself round the grand 
cathedral, built by one of the early Norman kings in the 
year 1182. The Normans found Saracenic, Roman, and 
Greek workmen and architects in Sicily, and the churches 
and palaces they built exemplify a singular but very beau- 
tiful mixture of all these styles of architecture. They 
borrowed a peculiar form of pointed arch, with profuse 
ornamentation, from the Saracens and Moors, apses from 
the Romans, mouldings with ornamented capitals from the 
Greeks, and mosaics from the Byzantines. And yet it is 
from this mixture of so many forms of architecture that 
issued the very beautiful style, so peculiarly their own, to 
which the term Siculo-Norman is given. The mosaics are 
peculiarly rich in the Monreale cathedral ; they cover more 
than 80,000 square feet. 

There is a Benedictine monastery adjoining the cathe- 
dral, founded at the same epoch, which contains some 
valuable and interesting pictures, and a mosaic ornamented 
cloister, well worth visiting. Connected with it is a semi- 
nary for the education of young priests. The great Sici- 
lian families still, as in former days, send their younger 
sons and their daughters to convents, in order to accumu- 
late the property in the hands of the head of the house ; 
it is the easiest and cheapest mode of providing for them. 



MONREALE — TRAVELLING IN THE INTERIOR. 425 

111 the garden of the monastery I saw many fine-looking 
boys, from ten to sixteen, in the priest's gown. They 
were priests in embryo, not through their own will, or 
from religious vocation, but by their parents' decree. I 
could not help pitying the poor boys, thus condemned in 
childhood to a life which later might possibly prove a 
bitter penance. There are also many convents for women 
both at Palermo and Monreale, cages for poor fluttering 
human birds. If a sincere religious vocation drives a man 
or a woman in the maturity of their intellect to a cloister, 
it may be respected; but it is very odious to thus imprison 
and bind for life mere children. 

Although there are roads in the interior of the island, 
there are so few travellers that it is not thought worth 
while to prepare for them, so the inns are mere wine- 
shops for the muleteers, very miserable and dirty, without 
resources.* The plan, therefore, for travellers who wish to 
visit the antiquities, and the interior and southern coast 
of the island, is to charter a vetturino carriage, and to 
stock it with eatables, as a yacht would be stocked for a 
cruise. Being most desirous to see all there was to be 
seen in Sicily, I and my German friends, who proved very 
agreeable companions, agreed to travel together, and with 
the assistance of our host made all the necessary prepara- 
tions. As a preliminary precaution, I called on the Eng- 
lish consul, who is also the banker, to exchange gold for 
a letter of credit, but from him I received the urgent 
advice not to venture into the interior. He told me that a 
few weeks before a numerous band of convicts had escaped 
from the pontoons at Girgenti, and taken refuge in the 
very mountains that were on our path. If we started, we 
ran a very fair chance of being taken possession of and 
detained for a ransom. 

As I have arrived at an age when, generally speaking, 
Ci discretion tempers valour/' much to my regret I gave 
up the intended excursion, as did the German Baron. 
The professor and his pupils, however, were much too 
enthusiastic to be arrested by such trifles, and started 
alone. As for us, with the mental resolve to return at 
some more peaceable time, we took our places on board 



426 sicily. 

the French Alexandria steamer for Messina. She came in 
that evening 1 direct from Marseilles and proved a splendid 
boat. We slept well on board, and the next morning*, 
when we awoke and got on deck, found, ourselves steaming 
into the port of Messina. 

The view of Messina, of the Straits, and of the adjoin- 
ing mountains, on entering from the Tyrrhenian sea, is 
perfectly enchanting, and so different from anything seen 
before that it rivets all the faculties. On a calm, fine 
morning, such as we were favoured with, the Straits, being 
only a few miles across, look like an inland lake. On the 
right is a large handsome town, occupying a semicircle at 
the foot of high and tree-clad hills ; on the left, or east, 
rise abruptly from the sea a series of magnificent moun- 
tain ridges, which rapidly attain an elevation of seven 
thousand feet. Their rocky flanks, which present little 
perceptible vegetation, all but glisten in the brilliant sun- 
shine, whilst their summits are covered with sheets of 
snow (April 25). Here and there, clinging as it were to 
the side of the mountain, are numerous villages and towns, 
with their tall churches and campanili, telling of hidden 
fertile valleys, and of terrace cultivation, imperceptible at 
a distance. To the south, above all, towers the snow- 
covered summit of Mount Etna, although fifty miles 
distant. 

The port of Messina, probably the best in the Mediter- 
ranean, is one of the wonders of that sea. It is a vast abyss 
or chasm, produced by an earthquake, or volcano, four 
hundred and twenty feet deep at the entrance, rilled by 
the sea, and all but closed towards the Straits by a narrow 
sickle-like promontory. Indeed the port is so sheltered 
that most of the numerous vessels it contains lie quietly, 
merely moored to the quays, without anchoring, which 
they could scarcely do in such deep waters. So thoroughly 
does the promontory which all but encircles the port to- 
wards the sea imitate the form of the reaper's hook, 
one of the oldest agricultural implements, that the ancient 
name of Messina was Zancle, which means sickle in the 
primitive Sicilian language. 

Messina was one of the earliest of the colonies founded 



MESSINA — EARTHQUAKES. 427 

by the Greeks in Sicily, and in successive ages followed 
the fortunes of the island in all their varied phases. The 
importance of the situation of Messina at the entrance of 
the Straits which, in all historic times, have been the high 
road between the east and the west of the Mediterranean, 
and the great security offered by its port, have been per- 
manent sources of disaster as well as of prosperity. It has 
nearly always been the first town attached and besieged, 
and often the last retained by the different nations that 
have conquered Sicily. 

In addition to sieges without number, Messina has also 
had to withstand the assaults of nature's mysterious 
agencies ; lor it has been repeatedly all but destroyed by 
earthquakes. Lying on the line between Vesuvius and 
Etna, it has ever been, and must remain, liable to these 
terrestrial convulsions. The two volcanoes are no doubt 
connected subterraneously, and are the result of the same 
agencies, a fact long recognised by geologists. The 
activity of the one has generally coincided with the quies- 
cence of the other, and vice versa. For more than a 
thousand years after the destruction of Pompeii, Vesuvius 
remained quiet, and during that time Etna was active; now 
when Vesuvius is active, Etna generally remains all but 
quiescent, and vice versa. When both are quiescent there 
is danger, and then woe betide the towns that, like Messina 
and Catania, are living on or near the volcano. The last 
serious earthquake that occurred was in 1783 ; it destroyed 
the greater part of the town, and many thousands of its 
inhabitants. 

The combined influence of these two causes of devasta- 
tion, war and earthquakes, has made Messina a modern 
city. It has been so often all but destroyed, all but 
razed to the earth by the one or the other, that it has 
very few antiquities; most of the buildings are modern, 
or comparatively modern. Facing the sea, on the western 
side of the port, there is a row of good stone-built houses, 
a mile and a half in length, forming a wide crescent, 
which adds greatly to the beauty of Messina. These 
houses, at a distance, look like one long and handsome 
palace. Eighteen streets pass through w T ide arcades in the 



428 sicily. 

basement of the houses on to the marina or port, without 
breaking its symmetry, or, rather its uniformity. 

To the north of the town a low neck of land, a kind of 
sandy promontory, advances into the sea towards the main- 
land, until it reaches within two miles of the latter, and 
thus forms the north-eastern or Sicilian entrance to the 
Straits. This is the well-known Cape Pelorus of the 
ancients. At its point is a village named Faro, from the 
Greek Pharos, lighthouse, and a tower, the Torre di Faro. 
This tower long served both as a fort and as a lighthouse, 
but now is only used in the latter capacity. The ancients 
believed that Sicily was formerly a part of Italy, and was 
torn from it by a convulsion of nature, as shown by the 
verses from Virgil's " JEneid," at the head of this chapter. 
Modern geologists do not accept this view. 

The road from Messina to Faro skirts the shore, and is 
very fertile and pretty, passing as it does through groves 
of Olive and Orange trees, with frequent glimpses of the 
blue sea, and of the grand Calabrian mountains. The 
distance from Messina is about eight miles, and this 
drive is not only the pleasantest, but the most fashionable. 

The distance from the Faro tower to the mainland is so 
short that on a calm night the crowing of the cocks and the 
barking of the dogs on the Calabrian coast is distinctly 
heard. It is stated in history that it was the Messinians 
who first summoned Count Roger de Hauteville, the 
Norman Baron, to defend them against the Saracens, and 
that he and his followers crossed the Straits in boats (1072), 
swimming their horses by their side. In recent times, 
Garibaldi crossed from Sicily to the mainland with the 
remains of his " one thousand" in boats, and it was on the 
mountain of Aspromonte opposite that he was wounded 
and taken by the royal troops. 

It is in these Straits that are situated the famed whirl- 
pools of Charybdis, so dreaded by the ancients, and the 
horrible rock of Scylla, with its summit in the clouds, amid 
eternal tempests, inaccessible to man, and its base deep in 
the sea among ravenous sea monsters. Admiral Smyth, 
who surveyed this region, finds very little foundation for 
those poetical fancies of Homer, and of subsequent classical 



CHARYBDIS AND SCYLLA. 429 

writers. They certainly were not the greatest dangers 
poor Ulysses had to encounter in his wanderings. 

The rock of Scylla, says the Admiral, is merely a water- 
worn rock, like any other, on the Calahrian coast, opposite 
Faro, surmounted by an old castle. The whirlpool of 
Charybdis, by the Sicilians called " garofalo," exists near 
the entrance of the Messina harbour, but in such a form as 
to be only dangerous to small craft in the hands of inexpe- 
rienced mariners. To the undecked vessels of the Rhegians, 
Zanclians, and Greeks, it may have been formidable, for 
Admiral Smyth has seen a man-of-war whirled round on 
its surface. It is, apparently, the result of a conflict 
between a harbour current with the main or tidal currents 
which set up and down the Straits. 

"What are much more dangerous to the small vessels 
that navigate these regions, are the sudden gusts of wind 
that often come down the fiimare, or dvy torrent beds of 
the adjoining mountains, with all but irresistible im- 
petuosity, and capsize vessels unprepared for them. 
Admiral Smyth says, that he saw thus overtaken and 
capsized a fine barge, with eighteen first-rate sailors and 
an experienced officer, who all perished. The barge, 
which had been on duty with the Sicilian flotilla for 
years, had been taking a German Princess on board a 
vessel bound to Palermo. On its return it was seized by 
so sudden a squall that they could not lower the mainsail, 
and she instantly capsized. The bodies were picked up the 
next day, thirty miles to the south, near Taormina. In 
Messina, there has been found a 'Greek inscription to the 
memory of thirty-seven youths of Cyprus, who lost their 
lives near the Faro by a similar disaster. The inscription 
says, that as many statues, sculptured by Calion, were 
erected to their memory. Thus were the fine arts 
honoured and supported by the ancient Greeks, and made 
subservient to the affections; but in our day, we perhaps 
do better. "We do not raise statues to the memory of 
youths who are accidentally drowned, but we not un- 
frequently think of and look after their mothers and 
wives. 

Messina is the great central rendezvous of the steamers 



430 SICILY. 

that navigate the eastern waters of the Mediterranean, 
and a very flourishing city. It is the principal com- 
mercial port of Sicily, the main outlet for the north- 
eastern part of the island, and exports immense quantities 
of oranges and lemons, and a considerable amount of corn, 
silk, sulphur, and wine. Although a very beautifully 
situated commercial emporium, it did not, however, strike 
me as ever likely to become a winter sanitarium. 

The Calabrian mountains rapidly recede to the south- 
east, so that half-a-dozen miles below Messina the 
Straits are already twelve miles across. Thus Messina 
receives the south-east sun in full, and is protected by 
mountains from the north-west. But then, immediately 
in front, to the east and north-east, there are the high 
snow-covered Calabrian mountains. In winter the north- 
east winds must be very cold, and there must constantly 
be a cold down-draught at night. 

The city of Messina, and its northern and * western 
suburbs, show this influence ; there is all but a complete 
absence of the southern vegetation of Palermo. The hills 
are covered with Fir and small Olive trees, and the Orange 
and Lemon trees disappear, or are only observed in 
sheltered corners. The Fig trees were only beginning 
to show their leaves, the Vines were merely sprouting, and 
there were very few flowers in bloom to be seen. Indeed, 
the proximity of the cold Calabrian mountains appeared to 
have brought the northern suburbs and the city of Messina, 
which are in the same latitude as Palermo, nearly to the 
level of Marseilles. 

The mountains, at the foot of which Messina is situated, 
are part of a huge sedimentary or Neptunian chain that 
runs right through the island from east to west, along the 
north coast. These mountains, of calcareous formation, 
extend southwards along the east coast for thirty miles, as 
far as Taormina, just as the Maritime Alps run along 
the Riviera or Genoa coast, having also a • sheltered under- 
cliff, smiling and luxuriant. The coast itself dips to the 
south-west, as will be seen by looking at the map of 
Sicily. On the other side of the Straits the Calabrian 






THE SICILIAN UNDERCLIFF. 431 

mountains rapidly lose their great altitude, and expire at 
the end of the Italian mainland, some fifteen miles below 
Messina. 

Owing to the above physical condition, a decided under- 
cliff or Riviera commences at the south suburbs of Messina, 
protected from the north and north-west by the coast 
chain, and gradually less and less exposed to the north-east 
as it descends southwards. Under these influences of pro- 
tection, and of exposure to the south-east sun, a wonderful 
change takes place. Nature bursts into extreme southern 
luxuriance ; not so much on the advanced or more exposed 
headlands, which still catch the north-east wind, as in the 
intervening bays or sheltered ravines. Here vegetation 
at once assumes a very advanced southern character. 
Stately Orange trees, sometimes as large as moderate-sized 
Oaks, and Lemon trees overtopping two-storied houses 
become common. I saw Oleander trees thirty feet high ; 
the white Mulberry and the Almond trees were in lull 
leaf, and the latter had fruit full size, evidently stoning; 
Fig trees were in leaf, and the fruit large ; the Vines had 
made shoots four or five feet long. What is called the 
black Mulberry tree was still all but leafless, as at Palermo, 
only a few buds and terminal leaves appearing. Few if 
any cultivated flowers were to be seen, with the exception 
of Carnations in full bloom in pots or vases on the balconies 
which most houses of any pretention possess. Wild 
flowers were numerous in orchards and fields, and pro- 
minent among them the Gladiolus, which was growing in 
great profusion. Barley and Oats were in the ear, and 
Wheat was some two feet high ; indeed, spring vegetation 
was certainly more advanced than I had seen it in any 
other part of Sicily. The name given to a village in the 
more southern portion of this region, Giardini (gardens), 
implies the recognition in former days, as well as now, of 
exceptional fertility. The physical conditions are the same 
as those of the Genoa Riviera, but this underclifT is five 
degrees further south, and no doubt enjoys a still warmer 
summer sunshine. Were Messina or Catania situated in 
this region they would truly be exceptionally favourable 



432 sicily. 

winter stations, but unfortunately they are not sheltered 
from the north-east. 

In the midst of this exuberant fertility there is a 
numerous population, which appeared very poor, squalid, 
and badly fed. The inhabitants live in large, dirty, decayed 
villages, in which it would be all but impossible to make 
even a temporary settlement ; although everywhere the 
scenery is glorious— rocks, torrents, beautiful bays and 
promontories. The men are better looking than the 
women, who seem to have even the beauty of youth ground 
out of them by work, insufficient food, and exposure to the 
sun. They wear no covering on their heads, except 
occasionally a handkerchief thrown over the back part. 
To screen the eyes from the ardent sun, therefore, they 
contract a habit of frowning, which impresses premature 
wrinkles on the youngest brow. Thus the girl of fifteen 
appears twenty, the woman of twenty, thirty, the one of 
thirty, fifty, and the one of fifty a hundred. 

About thirty miles from Messina the mountain chain 
leaves the coast and takes an inland or westerly direction, 
skirting for some distance the northern foot of the Etna. 
Although the undercliff ceases with the town of Taormina 
aud the village of Giardini, its protection, and that of the 
mountains trending west, are still felt, and a region of 
exuberant fertility meets the traveller for some miles 
further on to the south. 

The town of Taormina contains numerous antiquities 
which are well deserving of examination. The most 
interesting is the remains of a Greco-Roman theatre, the 
largest in Sicily, and one of the best preserved in Europe. 
It was made to contain forty thousand persons in the days 
when Taormina was a great city, four miles in circum- 
ference. The ancient Taurominium was founded 358 B.C., 
by the scattered descendants of the inhabitants of the 
neighbouring city of Naxos, razed, and totally destroyed 
by Dionysius of Syracuse, 403 B.C. The Naxians had 
incurred the animosity of the tyrant of Syracuse by allying 
themselves to Athens in her wars with that city, and by 
giving winter quarters to the Athenian general Nicias 
previous to his siege of Syracuse 415-414 B.C. 



TAORMINA MOUNT ETNA. 433 

- Naxos was the first colony made by the Greeks in Sicily, 
735 B.C., and was founded one year before Syracuse. It 
was built on the promontory called Capo Schiso, a few 
miles beyond Giardini, on an ancient lava stream. No 
trace of it now remains. 

Beyond Giardiui begins the domain of the king of 
European volcanoes, Mount Etna. No better view of 
Mount Etna can be obtained than from this part of the 
road from Messina to Catania. For thirty miles it skirts 
the eastern or sea base, the entire circumference of the base 
of Mount Etna being 120 miles. Thus does the traveller 
become gradually impressed with the real grandeur of this 
magnificent mountain. At first it is difficult to believe that 
it is nearly 11,000 feet high. The rise to the plain at the 
summit, from which issues the final cone, is so gradual, and 
the summit plain itself extends over such an extensive area — 
many miles from north to south — that the great volcano 
looks more like a snow-covered ridge than a single moun- 
tain. The snow at this time of the year covers at least the 
upper third of the huge mountain — a vast superfices. 

The moment Giardini is left the scene changes. The soil 
is merely decomposed lava, a mixture of large masses, like 
scoria? or slag from a manufactory, of smaller pieces like 
cinders, and of a brownish black earth like ashes. The more 
ancient currents of lava seem to be graduallj' resolved into 
these elements. When cultivation commences the large 
masses are dug up and piled for walls, the small ones are 
used to Macadamize the roads, and the ash-like dust con- 
stitutes the soil ; and very fertile soil it appears to be, merely 
requiring water to produce anything that is sown. 

The southern character of the vegetation recedes under 
the cooling influence of the vast snow- covered plains of 
Mount Etna. The Fig trees have only terminal leaves, 
and the fruit is very small ; the white Mulberry trees and 
Vines have also only a few leaves; the black Mulberry trees 
are mere sticks, scarcely having their buds formed. Lemon 
and Orange trees still appear, but only in sheltered valleys 
and depressions, and are often protected by high walls ; 
neither are they as large, as vigorous, as tree-like. The 
Olive tree, however, holds his own, as also do the Opuntiae 



434 Sicily. 

or Barbary figs. The latter are extensively cultivated 
throughout Sicily as hedges, and for the sake of their fruit. 
They grow to the height of some twelve or fifteen feet, in 
a very singular grotesque manner, and assert their claim to 
being dicotyledonous plants by becoming regular trees, 
with a large round trunk and bark. This transformation 
of the flat, fleshy, leaf-shaped branches is quite remarkable. 

The geologically celebrated Yal del Bove, with its dikes, 
is seen at a distance, a wide and long chasm on the flanks 
of the mountain; also the Oak and Chestnut forests below 
the snow line, which appear as mere black patches. As we 
approach Catania the very peculiar grim, coal-mouth cha- 
racter of the region becomes more and more apparent. The 
walls on the roadside and in the fields, and the out-houses 
are all made of clinkers, the road of cinders, the soil of 
ashes. Vineyards are numerous; the Vines — indeed, nearly 
all plants in Sicily — are planted in the fields between ridges 
or pyramids of the loose black soil, some eighteen inches 
high, in order to retain moisture. Even wheat is planted 
in this way in tufts at the bottom of furrows, and between 
ridges. In flower gardens the same system is followed. 

This soil, formed of decomposed lava, appears to contain 
all the elements of nutrition required for vegetation; every- 
thing seeming to flourish and thrive in it, provided there 
be water. The ground vegetation shows less difference than 
that of the trees. Beans and Peas are ripe, and Vetches in 
full blossom. Lupins, white and blue, are very abundant, 
and are extensively cultivated as fodder for cattle. The 
Hellebore is in flower, and very common; Almond trees 
are in full leaf, and the fruit natural size ; white and red 
Convolvulus and scarlet Poppies are abundant. Occasionally, 
near water, are Poplars in full leaf; in the same situations, 
Cannas have new shoots, three or four feet long. They 
grow to twenty feet or more, and are much used for light 
fencing, as supports to Vines, and for a variety of similar 
purposes. Pomegranate trees are often seen from ten to 
twenty feet in height. 

Giardini is thirty-four miles from Messina, and thirty- 
two from Catania. The road for these thirty-two miles 
skirts the base of Mount Etna, and is everywhere cut 



THE BASE OF MOUNT ETNA. 435 

through lava in different stages of decay and disintegration, 
accordiug to the time that has elapsed since the eruption 
to which it owes its origin. Indeed, the soil is entirely 
volcanic. Generally speaking the older the lava the greater 
the disintegration, and the easier it is to bring it into culti- 
vation, but this rule is not without exception. Some 
comparatively recent streams of lava have long been culti- 
vated, whereas others that have been thrown out before our 
era are nearly as sterile as at first. Within the last few 
miles of Catania, where the separation of the clinkers, 
cinders, and soil has not been made, rivers of lava are 
crossed, lying in masses, in mounds, in sheets, in plains, 
and producing little else but Crassulacese. The fertility of 
the lava is evidently the result of human labour combined 
with artificial irrigation, brought to bear on it when decayed 
by atmospheric influences and by time. 

This entire coast possesses a kind of strange fascination. 
On the one side is the blue sea that separates us from Greece, 
on the other the immense mass of the great volcano, tower- 
ing into the sky between two and three miles above the sea- 
level. Grim as the landscape appears with its lava-dust soil, 
only here and there concealed by a sparse vegetation, it is 
viewed with intense interest. On every side is the evidence 
of innumerable eruptions, that have given birth to innumer- 
able streams of lava, both in historic and pre-historic times. 
In some localities these lava rivers have evidently flowed 
into the sea, filled up its depths, and pushed back its shores 
for miles. In others, as at Aci Reale, the lava cliff, six 
hundred feet high, has clearly been partly formed by an 
uprising of the coast and of lava streams previously deposited 
in deep waters. In these cliffs are to be found many caves, 
into some of which the sea dashes with mysterious, un- 
earthly sounds in stormy weather. Basaltic columns are also 
to be seen, nearly as curious and as perfect as those of the 
Giant's Causeway in Ireland, or of FingaFs Cave in 
Scotland. 

It is in this region, and in that of Etna in general, that 
the ancients placed the earliest events of their mythology. 
Sicily itself was dedicated to Ceres, the goddess of agri- 
culture. Jupiter reigned on Mount Etna, and it was under 

F f 2 



436 sicily. 

its mass that be placed the revolted Titan Enceladus. The 
convulsive movements of the crushed Titan were the cause 
of its eruptions. It was in the fertile plains of Buna, at the 
western base of Etna, that Proserpine was plucking flowers 
when Pluto carried her off. It was in the same plains that 
lived Daphnis, the son of Mercury, who invented pastoral 
poetry to please Diana, the great huntress. 

The Cyclop Polyphemus lived in one of the lava caverns 
on the coast, and there pursued with his love the nymph 
Galatea, who preferred the shepherd Acis. Polyphemus, 
in his rage, threw a rock at his unfortunate rival, and 
thus destroyed him. Acis was changed by the gods into a 
river, and this river still runs through the town of Aci, 
named after Galatea's lover. 

It was in a port on this coast, choked by a lava stream 
in the Middle Ages, that Ulysses took refuge, and fell into 
the hands of the same Polyphemus — 

" Portus ab accessu ventorum immotus, et ingens 
Ipse ; sed horrificis juxta tonat iEtna ruinis." — iEsr. iii. 

In the sea near Aci, are seven lava or trap islets, remark- 
able for the numerous basaltic columns they present. 
These islets were believed by the ancients to be the very 
rocks thrown by Polyphemus after Ulysses and his com- 
panions, after they had escaped from his cave. They 
bear to this day the name of Scogli del Ciclqpi, rocks of 
the Cyclops. 

Catania is a large and rather handsome town of eighty- 
four thousand inhabitants, situated at the very foot of 
Mount Etna, where the sea approaches the nearest to the 
base of the great volcano. It is all but encircled by arms 
or rivers of lava. At the memorable eruption of 1669 a 
stream of lava, a mile wide, reached the walls of the town ; 
then it divided and swept into the sea on both sides of 
the city, not without destroying part of it.. The lava, 
where it reached the sea just two centuries ago, still looks 
as if it had only been emitted last year. It is piled on the 
shore in heaps, like thousands of tons of coal, and gives a 
very grim, coalpit-mouth appearance to the immediate 
vicinity of the town. 

Catania (kcit AiVyrje, under Etna) was one of the earliest 



C ATAXIA — EARTHQUAKES. 437 

of the Greek colonies, having been founded probably about 
730 B.C. It soon attained great wealth and prosperity, with 
a numerous population, owing, no doubt, to its proximity 
to Greece, and to its being the natural port of the rich and 
populous district of lower Etna and of the surrounding 
plains. Although many times destroyed by the sword, and 
even more frequently still by the eruptions of its friend and 
enemy, Mount Etna, and by the earthquakes that so often 
precede and follow them, Catania has always been rebuilt, 
to recommence its career of prosperity. In modern times 
the most complete destruction was that commenced by the 
eruption of 1669, which overwhelmed part of the town. 
The ruin was all but completed by the earthquake of 1683, 
which scarcely left any houses standing, and buried fifteen 
thousand persons. 

This time the town was rebuilt with architectural method 
and precision. More peaceful times had arrived ; the neces- 
sity of cramping the city between narrow walls had ceased, 
and Catania was rebuilt with, for the south, wide, handsome 
streets. Hence the modern appearance that it presents. It 
is said that this open style of architecture, although pleasant 
in winter, and at all times healthier, makes it insufferably 
hot in summer, the more so as the streets nearly all run 
regularly north and south, east and west. From its south- 
east exposure Catania is much warmer in summer than 
Palermo, which has the benefit of the north sea winds. 
The maximum heat at Palermo in summer averages 86° Fah., 
whereas at Catania it averages 95°. At Mentone the maxi- 
mum only reaches 81°, less than in London or Paris. 

Catania is the residence of many of the Sicilian aristo- 
cracy, some of whom are men of considerable wealth, 
even according to our ideas. As they travel, and often 
reside a part of the year abroad, they attain a high degree 
of intellectual cultivation, which makes their society, I 
have been told, very agreeable for those who are admitted 
into the inner circle. There is, also, an appearance of life 
end animation about the city which must contribute to 
make it an agreeable residence even to strangers. 

In former times, in the days of the Greeks, Svracusans, 
and Romans, property was much divided in Sicily, and 
agriculture flourished more than in any part of Europe. 



438 SICILY. 

Hieron of Syracuse published an agrarian code, which 
was considered so perfect by the Romans that they 
adopted it. During the dominion of the latter, Sicily 
was so fertile, and so very productive in cereals, that it 
became the granary of Rome. The Saracens still further 
promoted agricultural progress by introducing an improved 
system of irrigation and various new species of culture. 
The conquest of Sicily by the Normans had a disastrous 
result. They introduced the feudal system, all but dividing 
the island between powerful barons and ecclesiastical corpo- 
rations, often non-residents. A large amount of land fell 
out of cultivation, and as subsequent governments have, 
until the recent fall of the Bourbons, encouraged this 
social condition, agriculture has never been able to recover 
itself, or at least to resume its former position. Even now, 
many of the large proprietors let their estates in the block 
to middle-men, who let and sub-let until the last tenant is 
ground to the earth. 

In such a climate, and with such a soil, however, pro- 
gress is sure to follow enlightenment, and the regeneration 
of Italy will extend by degrees to Sicily. No doubt the 
increased facility of communication which steam affords, 
and the propagation of the doctrines of free trade, will 
gradually work great changes in the ideas, both of the 
territorial aristocracy and of the nation at large. 

Mount Etna, called Mongibello, or mountain of moun- 
tains, by the modern Sicilians, does nob overshadow the 
town, although the latter lies at its foot. The ascent is 
so gentle, on this, the south side, that it is twenty-nine 
miles from Catania to the summit. On the north side, 
where the slope is much more abrupt, there are points 
where the ascent is only twelve miles. This slope is 
divided into three regions : the cultivated region, pie di 
montana, or culta, which extends about ten miles, and is 
the fertile region; the woody region, regione nemorosa, or 
bosco, which extends some six or eight miles in width ; 
and the desert region, regione diserta, which commences, 
according to Admiral Smyth, at a little above six thousand 
feet, and extends to 10,874, the height of the centre cone 
of Etna, according to the measurements of the same 



CATANIA — VEGETATION. 439 

authority. In winter the two upper regions are covered 
with snow, which must exercise a marked influence on the 
climate of Catania, and of the plains which surround the 
base of the mountain. 

I arrived at Catania at the end of April, and carefully' 
examined the vegetation with reference to climate, as 
I had done at Palermo. I found two gardens worthy of 
notice, one on the port, sheltered and protected by the 
town, with a rivulet running through, which gives an 
abundant supply of water, the other at the convent of 
Benedictines. The Benedictine monks have a very hand- 
some church and monastery on the north-western limit 
of the city, immediately facing Etna. The great lava 
current of 1669 submerged the old garden and stopped 
within ten feet of the church ; a miracle the monks 
thought due to their prayers. The present garden is built 
on the lava which covers the former one, on a level with 
the first storey of the convent. There is no protection 
whatever between it and the mountain, and at night a 
cold down-draught must set in from the snow regions. 
As a result, this garden, notwithstanding its sunny ex- 
posure and low latitude, might almost be in a sheltered spot 
in England. The flowers were only the earliest spring 
flowers, such as anemones, and the geraniums were all in 
pots. Indeed it was by no means as advanced as a garden 
at Nice would be at the same epoch of the year. 

The difference between this garden and the one on the 
port, protected from the Etna down-draught by the town, 
and exposed to the south-eastern sun, was very striking ; 
the latter was one mass of flowers, all planted out — 
Geranium, Verbena, Heliotrope, Petunia, Antirrhinum, 
Nasturtium, red Linum (called Inglese by the gardener). 
Everything was growing with the wildest luxuriance and 
beauty. The garden was a regular carpet of flowers, and 
vegetation was as far advanced as it would be in a well- 
cultivated garden in England in July. 

The examination of these two gardens was conclusive. 
From its southern latitude, and from its full exposure to 
the south-east, Catania would have necessarily a very mild 
winter climate, were it not for the immediate vicinity 



440 SICILY. 

of the extensive snow-clad plains of the upper regions of 
Mount Etna. From their gentle slopes there must be a 
nightly down-draught, or land-breeze, unintercepted by 
any ridge, which must make the nights cold from Decem- 
ber until May. When I was there at the end of April, in 
magnificent sunny weather, the nights were colder than 
I had felt them for a month before anywhere else in the 
Mediterranean ; I had to get up in the night to partially 
close the window, and to put a cloak on the bed. A careful 
pilgrimage through the cultivated region of Mount Etna 
to Nicolosi confirmed this view. 

Nicolosi is a well-known village, twelve miles from 
Catania, in the direction taken for the ascent. There is 
a good road, and it is usual for those who wish to ascend 
to drive in a carriage thus far, and then to take mules. 
On this occasion I confined myself to the drive. 

I found evidence everywhere of cold winter nights, as 
on the Riviera, as at Naples and Palermo, and also of cold 
down-draughts up to that time from the snow-clad plains 
of Etna. The deciduous trees, Mulberry, Fig, or Almond, 
which were the most numerous, were not in leaf, the Vine 
was only sprouting ; the flowers and ground vegetation 
reproduced at every step the contrast between the two 
gardens at Catania. Wherever there was any little valley, 
any depression, with a ridge to the northwards, vegetation 
was luxuriant ; it was that of June and July with us. 
Moreover, in these spots were generally growing Orange 
and Lemon trees. Where there was no protection, and 
on exposed ridges, the ground vegetation was backward, 
and there were neither Lemon nor Orange trees to be 
seen. 

This drive is a most singular and interesting one. The 
most exuberant fertility exists ; but in the midst of cinders, 
scoriae, and lava-dust. It is perfectly evident that the 
decomposed lava contains the elements required for vege- 
tation, and that once it is reduced to the state of soil by 
time, all that is wanted is sunshine and water. The first 
is ever present in this favoured climate, the second can 
only be obtained with great difficulty. In many parts of 
Mount Etna the shepherds and inhabitants depend entirely 



MOUNT ETNA — NICOLOSI. 441 

for water during the summer on collections of snow pre- 
served in the higher regions. Indeed Catania and part of 
Sicily is supplied with snow in summer from Mount Etna. 
This fact speaks for itself as to the possibility of finding a 
cool summer temperature on its flanks. 

The cultivated region of Mount Etna is so fertile that 
from time immemorial it has been dotted with towns and 
villages which now number sixty-five and contain three 
hundred thousand inhabitants, all living comfortably on 
the bounty of the soil. It produces abundantly oil, wine, 
lemons, oranges, almonds, cereals, silk, and fruits of every 
description. 

Nicolosi, 2264 feet above the sea, is composed of low, one- 
storied, solidly-built cabins or houses. They are thus built 
as a precaution against earthquakes, to which this village 
is even more exposed than Catania. The view both of the 
mountain and of the plains below, of Catania, and of the 
sea, is very beautiful. In the immediate vicinity are two 
volcanic cones, the Monti-Rossi, which are of recent forma- 
tion, for they were thrown up in the eruption of 1669, One 
of the peculiarities of Mount Etna is that its eruptions 
have, from time immemorial, as often, or oftener, taken 
place from new cones formed on the flanks as from the 
principal one at the apex. There are hundreds of those 
secondary cones of all sizes on the sides of Etna, extending 
from the upper or deserted region to the cultivated one. 
Many of the cones are of great size. Thus one of the twin 
Monti-Rossi, so named from their red colour, is two miles 
in circumference at its base, and is by no means one of the 
largest. These cones are side by side, and protrude from 
the mountain like two half-spheres. They are quite 
naked, but many of the secondary ones are clothed with 
timber, which sometimes extends down to the bottom of the 
old crater; the effect is then very picturesque. 

Tourists who intend to ascend to the summit of the 
volcano, here take guides and mules, and begin the more 
fatiguing part of the ascent, through the woody region of 
the Bosco. The species of trees vary in different regions 
of the mountain, but on the south-east, or Catanian side, 
they are as we ascend Chesnut, Oak, Cork, Fir, Beech, 



442 sicily. 

Birch, and Hawthorn. There are many wood-covered cones 
in this region, and they are said to be very lovely, as are 
the woods in general. 

I was told both at Catania and at Nicolosi that the forest 
glades, especially in the higher wooded regions, are cool 
and pleasant in the most scorching heats of the Mediterra- 
nean summer. It struck me that nature has provided an 
admirable sanitarium, the very place I was searching for, as 
yet quite ignored, in the sylvan retreats of Mount Etna. 

In Switzerland the physicians of the lar^e towns, such as 
Geneva, Lausanne, and Lucerne, are well aware that the 
great heat of even the Swiss plains is very injurious to the 
sick, to the weak, and to all convalescents, and that cool 
mountain air is life in such cases. They have, therefore, by 
their advice, led to the establishment all over Switzerland 
of mountain hotels or pensions, at elevations of from two 
to three or five thousand feet. To these hotels they send 
many convalescent and debilitated persons during the sum- 
mer months, and to them also resort multitudes of the 
sound and strong, to escape from the extreme heat of July 
and August. 

Why should not our heat- oppressed and fever-stricken 
countrymen in the South Mediterranean, at Malta, Naples, 
and elsewhere, establish some such sanitarium or mountain 
pension on the cool slopes of Mount Etna? Would it not 
even be worth while for our Government, if feasible, to found 
such an establishment for the troops at Malta ? Invalids 
have now either to bear the tropical heat of Malta, or to 
be sent home, a long and expensive journey. 

Were such a sanitarium established there would be no 
real difficulty in obtaining supplies, in the immediate 
proximity of a large city of eighty-four thousand inhabi- 
tants, with a good carriage road as far as Nicolosi. This 
village being twelve miles from Catania, there would only 
remain six or eight to ascend on mules, to reach the 
probable site. Such a sanitarium would, I feel convinced, 
be a great boon to southern Europe, and I hope yet to see 
it established. 

The deserted region, very aptly so called, comprises the 
last four thousand five hundred feet of the volcano. In 



MOUNT ETNA A SUMMER SANITARIUM. 443 

winter it is entirely covered with, snow, whieli descends low 
down into the Bosco ; in summer, it is *>nly partially so 
covered. It contains no life, vegetable or animal — scarcely 
a lichen or an insect, and is a desert of ashes, scoria?, and 
cinders. The final cone, now eleven hundred feet high, 
rises out of a wide and long plain at the summit of the 
mountain ; its height varies from one eruption to another. 
Sometimes part of it falls into the wide crater, and thus 
the height of the mountain is lessened ; sometimes a new 
eruption of ashes and lava rebuilds it higher than ever. 
Mount Etna is truly a magnificent and intensely interesting 
sight ; it is certainly the most wonderful object in nature it 
has ever been my good fortune to see, and is alone worth 
the trouble of several journeys to Sicily. 

The above pages were written on the occasion of my first 
visit to Sicily in 1863, when I was not well enough to ascend 
beyond Nicolosi. I have recently (May, 1874) paid Sicily 
and Catania another visit, and being in better health, more 
equal to exertion, I have carefully explored the lower regions 
of Mount Etna, with a view to the discovery of a locality 
suited for the summer sanitarium. After driving to Nicolosi, 
I took mules and ascended as high as the house called the 
" Casa del Bosco" at an elevation of 6233 feet. It is the 
house where those who wish, to ascend to the summit of 
Mount Etna usually pass the night. We reached this point 
of the ascent without any fatigue, a distance of eight miles 
from Nicolosi, in two hours and a half, by a very tolerable 
but rocky track, one that any lady or child could easily 
take. We were told that the snow had only disappeared 
in this district for about a week ; later, however, than 
usual. The ascent was very gentle, over slightly-rising 
plains and sloping hills. From the tl Casa" the ascent 
becomes more precipitous, but I went no further, satisfied 
that I had found a spot where a mountain hotel, or summer 
asylum against heat might be advantageously established. 

The forest of old Chestnut trees described by former 
writers has been cut down for timber. Lying near the 
path were several huge trunks, many feet in circumference, 
and the remains of trees hundreds of years old, which had 
not yet been removed. Their place was, however, supplied 



444 Sicily. 

by young trees, Chestnuts and Oaks, from ten to fifteen 
years old. The«air was fresh and pleasant, the view over 
Catania and the adjoining Simeto plain truly splendid. 
The vegetation was principally composed of grasses, small 
Thistles, Daisies, Silene, Saponaria calabrica, Taraxacum, 
Mustard, Nettles, white Clover, Blackberries, Ivy. There 
were wild Plum and Pear trees in flower, oak brushwood, 
and patches of cereals, bearded Wheat and Barley, and 
Lupins. As we were two hours and a half reaching this 
spot from Nicolosi, and two hours driving from Catania to 
Nicolosi, the entire ascent from Catania took four hours 
and a half in all, 'twenty miles. 

Catania, on the other hand, is only seven hours distant 
from Malta, so that it would be possible to dine at Malta, 
sleep on board the steamer, and be more than 6000 feet 
high on Mount Etna by breakfast time the next morning, 
in a region cool and pleasant during the greatest heat of 
the scorching Mediterranean summer. Once there the 
days might be spent delightfully in ascents to higher 
regions, and in exploration of the picturesque flanks of 
" Mongibello," in a wilderness of cones and craters, of rocks, 
valleys, glades, and woods. Nothing would be easier also 
than to get daily supplies of every kind from Catania. 

The " Casa del Bosco," and the surrounding region of 
Mount Etna, belong to a Spanish nobleman who would 
no doubt favour the plan, not only for the public good, but 
also because it would give value to a property now all but 
valueless. We had a beautiful day, there were no clouds 
on the mountain, only a long streamer of white smoke from 
the cone, the entire elevation of which we saw distinctly. 

Nicolosi and the "Casa del Bosco^ lie on the south-east 
side of Etna. In order to see if a better locality could be 
found in another direction, I attempted to carry out a long 
and ardently desired project, a visit to the Col del Bove. 

The Col del Bove is an immense valley or hollow, scooped 
out of the north-eastern flank of the mountain by some 
mysterious agency, large enough to swallow up Mount 
Vesuvius and its cone. The entrance to it is twenty miles 
from Catania, so I took a carriage and pair and started 
at six a.m. 



MOUNT ETNA— VAL DEL BOVE. 445 

We passed through many smiling villages, apparently 
the abode of peace and plenty, through a land literally 
flowing with oil and wine, rich in figs, fruits, and corn. 
The highest villages reached were not more than 2000 feet 
above the sea, and they were mostly between 1000 and 
1500 feet. In all there were modest villas, belonging to 
the Catanians I was told, who there spend the hot days of 
summer. 

Arrived at the end of our drive, at the village of Zaffa- 
rana, we hired mules, and started for the ascent, one of the 
most glorious and fascinating I ever made. For a few 
hundred feet more, up to 2500 feet, there were still patches 
of cultivation, vines, cereals, figs, and then we reached a 
billowy sea of lava. We crossed and recrossed rivers and 
streams, and torrents of lava, over rocks, boulders, cinders 
of lava, under and over cascades of lava. We saw where it 
had rushed over ridges and mountain sides, where it had 
poured over precipices, filled valleys, and crossed older lava 
torrents. Indeed, we witnessed every conceivable and in- 
conceivable vagary and freak that rivers of molten metal, 
issuing at one period from one direction at another period 
from a different one, can possibly accomplish on a rugged 
mountain side. I was entranced, and forgot all the 
discomfort of being on a mule without a saddle, sitting on 
a sack of straw, with merely loops of rope for stirrups. 
But man never is to be truly blest. Just as we reached 
the entrance of the grand amphitheatre, which forms the 
Val del Bove, a mass of clouds, which had for some time 
been hovering over us, rapidly descended, concealed every- 
thing from our view, and bid us retrace our steps lest we 
should be lost in their cold embrace. This I did very sadly, 
for there was but little chance of my ever again being able 
to visit this scene of geological enchantment. 

We were at an elevation of four thousand feet. All culti- 
vation had long ceased, and Lichens, Mosses, Ferns, Brooms, 
and Crassulaceaa were abundant in the crevices of the older 
lavas. The Ferns were Ceterach, Polypodium vulgare, As- 
plenium trichomanes, Pteris aquilina. The moisture and 
coolness of this region were evidently favourable to the 
disintegration of the lava, for that of 1852 was already 



446 SICILY. 

covered with Lichens, and lower down, that of 1773 was 
cultivated ; whereas near Catania the lava of the latter 
date is still absolutely naked, as devoid of vegetation as 
the day it was poured out of the volcano. 

I heard from my guide many interesting details respect- 
ing the eruption of 1852, the greatest since 1669. The 
river . of lava only stopped a few hundred yards above the 
village of ZafFarana, the one at which we commenced our 
ascent. The villagers had long given up all hope, and had 
removed their goods and chattels. As at Catania, the lava 
stopped just behind a church, which was and is considered 
a miracle. Although the eruption lasted months, and 
poured out a sea of lava, occasioning great devastation, 
there were no human lives lost ; there was only one serious 
accident,andoneanimal burnt. AyoungEnglishman jumped, 
for a freak, on to a rock, which was shown me, then en- 
circled with molten lava. He missed his footing, and fell 
with one leg into the burning stream. The leg was con- 
sumed to the knee, and he had to suffer amputation, but sur- 
vived. The mule, less fortunate, jumped on the molten 
lava in an agony of fright and a fit of disobedience, and 
was burnt to death. The one was not more reasonable 
than the other, said my guide, who told me this tale; both 
deserved their fate ! 

The result of the excursion was to confirm the conclu- 
sion previously arrived at— that the vicinity of the " Casa 
del Bosco" is the locality best adapted for an Etna sani- 
tarium. In the smiling villages through which I passed 
there are already, however, as stated, many villas, no doubt 
easily obtainable, which would be a great improvement on 
Malta and the mainland as a summer residence, but they 
are not high enough on the mountain to escape entirely 
the summer heats. 

In conclusion, I saw no reason to think that the winter 
climate of Catania was superior or even equal to that of 
the Riviera, and to that of Mentone in particular. As we 
have seen, it is exposed to cold winds from the north and 
north-west, the direction in which Etna lies; that moun- 
tain being covered with extensive plains of snow all winter, 
down-draughts from these snow plains must reach it. 



WINTER CLIMATE OF CATANIA. 447 

Moreover it is quite unprotected from the cold north-east 
winds which descend from the Calabrian and Dalmatian 
mountains, snow-covered during the winter. 

The mean winter temperature of Catania, like that of 
Palermo and of Naples, is higher by some degrees than 
that of Mentone and of the Riviera ; but T believe that 
in both localities the fact is in a great measure owing to 
the occasional prevalence of southerly winds, and especially 
of the scirocco, or south-east wind. The latter comes from 
the African deserts, the hottest summer climate in the 
world, like a blast from a furnace, gathers a great amount 
of moisture from the sea as soon as it touches it, and 
reaches Sicily as a hot, damp wind, most enervating and 
relaxing". It is dreaded throughout the island, as at Malta, 
even more by the natives than by strangers, and is de- 
cidedly a weak point in Sicilian climate. It generally 
lasts three or four days, with the thermometer from 90° to 
95°, although it feels much higher, producing excessive 
dejection and lassitude. While it continues it is a source 
of the greatest discomfort to the entire community, to the 
sound as well as to the unsound. As I have already stated, 
the trying nature of the scirocco, or south-east wind, as 
we reach the more southern regions of the west Mediter- 
ranean, counterbalances to a great extent the advantage 
gained by intenser sun heat. The scirocco appears to be 
more oppressive at Palermo, although on the north coast, 
than at Catania, or in any other part of the south of Sicily 
generally. This is supposed to be owing to the rever- 
beration of the sun's rays from the rocks in the moun- 
tain amphitheatre behind Palermo increasing its heat. 
During its persistence the streets are deserted and silent, 
the natives shutting themselves up in the houses with 
closed windows and doors. This wind was as much 
detested by the ancients as by the moderns. Admiral 
Smyth says it was, without doubt, " the evil vapour of 
Homer (Iliad v.), into which Mars retreated when wounded 
by Minerva." 

Nevertheless I think a residence at Catania in winter 
would probably suit those who, without being seriously ill, 
require a sunny, temperate climate, rather drier and more 



448 SICILY. 

bracing than that of Palermo, not so dry or so stimulating 
as the north shores of the Mediterranean. To some the 
proximity of the king of European volcanoes, the strange- 
ness of this volcanic region, the facility with which from it 
other parts of the Mediterranean can be visited in spring 
or autumn, may appear a positive advantage, and incline 
them to choose Catania as their winter abode. The town 
appears to be exceptionally clean and open for a southern 
city, and offers many resources. 

When I first visited Catania there was no comfortable 
hotel, but this drawback has been removed by the erection 
of the large and commodious " Grande Albergo di Catania." 
It is under Swiss management, and is as good as the general 
run of large hotels on the mainland, but then the prices have 
become the same. This is the invariable result of improve- 
ment in hotels on the Continent, with English comforts, or 
even with the mere attempt to attain them, we have every- 
where and anywhere to accept English or Parisian prices. 

The town of Catania has much improved since I first saw 
it twelve years ago, and is still improving. New houses 
and streets have been built, and a really lovely public garden 
has been planted and opened by the municipality in a very 
good position, just above the town, underneath the Do- 
minican church. It is called " Giardino Bellini/'' in honour 
of the renowned composer. The house in which was born 
the author of " Norma/'' " Puritani," " Sonnambula," abuts 
on the garden. Bellini is much revered by his countrymen, 
who highly appreciate the honour of having given birth to 
such a man, a very fountain and temple of melody. They 
deeply deplore his early death, as do all musical mankind. 
The Botanical Gardens also deserve a visit ; what I saw in 
both these gardens only confirmed former impressions. 
There is now a railroad open from Messina to Catania and 
Syracuse, but, as on the Genoese Riviera, the gain is a loss. 

The object of my excursion to Sicily was more especially 
to study the position and climate of Palermo and Catania. 
Having brought this investigation to a satisfactory issue, I 
felt free to depart. Catania is, however, too near to Syra- 
cuse; and Syracuse is too intimately connected with the 
history of the ancient Greeks and Romans, which all but 



THE VOYAGE TO SYRACUSE. 449 

engrosses our youthful thoughts during twelve or fourteen 
years of early life, for a strong desire to visit it not to arise. 
There was a small Sicilian steamer, starting the next day, 
and as it proved calm and fine I went on board at 10 a.m. 

This time I was again quite alone. My young German 
Baron had proved a very agreeable co'mpanion at Messina, 
notwithstanding his heraldic carpet-bag. Once we had left 
his countrymen at Palermo, and he found himself alone with 
me, all stiffness and hauteur disappeared. He seemed to 
lean upon and to confide in me, and we spent several days 
together very harmoniously, then separating, he for Naples, 
where he intended rejoining his family, I for Catania. 

The morning was, as usual, very beautiful, and the motion 
of the vessel was so easy and steady that there was no excuse 
for being even uncomfortable. The blue sea danced merrily 
at the bows of the little steamer, and as we receded from 
the land, whilst crossing the Gulf of Catania, the mountain 
of mountains (Mongibello) rose higher and higher on the 
north-western horizon. Indeed, the further we receded the 
grander and more imposing did Mount Etna become, dis- 
tance merely bringing out in greater relief the colossal 
proportions of the king of volcanoes. Catania soon became 
a mere mass of white houses on the sea-shore, whilst above 
was spread out, as in a panorama, the different regions of 
Etna — the green cultivated district, dotted with numerous 
white villages and towns — above, a wide belt of forest trees, 
the Bosco, of a more sombre hue — and then a naked region 
which extended higher and higher to the abode of eternal 
snow. From the sea, at the distance of some thirty miles 
from Catania, not only were all these details distinctly 
visible, but the large plain at the summit, and the terminal 
cone in the centre, also came into view. This cone, 
although rising nearly eleven hundred feet from the ter- 
minal plain, appeared to be merely a small mound. 

There were no foreigners on board except myself; all 
were Sicilians, so I had to make myself as agreeable as I 
could, in rather second-rate Italian, to the captain and his 
lieutenant. The steamer was a small coasting vessel which 
once a fortnight performs the journey from Palermo to 
the Lipari Islands, Messina, Catania, and Syracuse, and 

G G 



450 SICILY. 

back. I had been cordially received on arriving 1 on board 
as un Inglese (an Englishman), and by this name, or by 
that of il Inglese (the Englishman), I remained known both 
during this and the return voyage, as also at Syracuse. I 
now felt that I had quite got out of the beaten track, and 
that my own identity had completely merged into that of 
my nationality. The officers of the ship, although civil and 
obliging, readily answering any questions, were evidently 
not classical scholars, or even historians They told me 
they could not well understand what we " Inglesi" went to 
Syracuse for. It was not a pretty town, and there were 
only a few old ruins, " delle antichita/'' of no great interest, 
to see. The magic of the past was a closed book to them; > 
they could not shut their eyes and see before them, as a 
thing of to-day, the great city of former times, with its 
eight hundred thousand inhabitants, its palaces and temples, 
its wealth, its numerous legions, and its hundreds of triremes 
or vessels of war. 

On the other hand, they were quite alive to all questions 
pertaining to present times, were enthusiastic in behalf of 
Italia Unita, and told me that all the young men in the 
island were in favour of the annexation to Italy, of the 
expulsion of the Bourbons, of free trade with other nations, 
and of progress in general. We shall never again, they 
said, put our neck under the yoke of the retrograde party. 

While coasting the low shore of this part of Sicily a 
number of quails came hovering round the vessel. Just 
arrived from the continent of Africa, and tired with their 
long journey, the poor birds of passage wanted to rest on 
our ship, the first " land" they had reached. The officers 
armed themselves with guns, and shot at the weary birds 
as they approached, an act of cruelty I could hardly forgive. 
The birds were evidently so tired that, although driven 
away by this harsh reception, they soon returned to the 
vessel for rest. Fortunately my friends were not good shots, 
and did but little execution. Quails arrive in great numbers 
in every part of Sicily at this time of the year, but more 
especially on the south coast. 

About four o'clock in the afternoon we rounded the cape 
of Panagia, came in sight of the far-famed promontory of 



SYRACUSE — ITS HISTORY. 451 

Ortygia, on which the town of Syracuse is situated, and 
were soon safely moored in the spacious port. *This port is 
one of the very best in the Mediterranean, according to 
modern authorities, although it was formerly believed to be 
too shallow to admit large vessels. It was Nelson who first 
showed the fallacy of this view by sailing in with a large 
fleet. 

Syracuse is, perhaps, the most interesting spot in Sicily, 
on account of its grandeur and prosperity in ancient times, 
of its intimate connexion with the national history of 
Greece, Carthage, and Rome, and of the numerous remains 
of antiquity that it still presents. It was founded one year 
after Naxos (734 B.C.) by a colony of Corinthians, and 
rapidly attained a degree of wealth and prosperity un- 
rivalled by any other of the colonies of Greece. In the 
year 485 B.C., under Gelon, it was able to offer thirty 
thousand men and three hundred vessels of war to Greece 
when attacked by Persia, and a few years later defeated the 
Carthaginians at Him era, and crushed their power in Sicily. 
In the year 415 B.C. began the deadly struggle with the 
Athenians, which ended by the defeat and capture of the 
Athenian general Nicias and of his army, after one of the 
most celebrated sieges in ancient history — a siege vividly 
described by Thucydides. It is said by this historian that 
the power of Athens never recovered from the defeat. The 
names of the Syracusan kings or tyrants, Hieron, Thrasy- 
bulus, Dionysius, Timoleon, Agathocles, are mixed up 
inextricably with Grecian history. Under them the popu- 
lation of Syracuse reached eight hundred thousand, and 
their dominion extended over the greater part of the island. 
The town itself was fourteen miles in circumference. 

In the year 214 B.C. Syracuse was besieged by Marcellus, 
the Roman general, and fell before his legions, notwith- 
standing the bravery of the inhabitants and the skill of 
Archimedes, the greatest mathematician and engineer of 
Grecian times, after an independent existence of 522 years. 
Syracuse then became merely a Roman provincial town, 
and one hundred and fifty years later Cicero resided there 
as praetor. He has left, in his oration against Verres, a 
graphic description of its beauty, of its monuments and 

G G 2 



452 sictly. 

of its wealth. Subsequently it followed the fortunes of the 
rest of Sicily, gradually losing the importance it had acquired 
in ancient times. 

Even now, however, after the lapse of more than two 
thousand five hundred years, Syracuse is a rather handsome 
provincial town of more than sixteen thousand inhabitants. 
The modern town is still situated on the peninsula or island 
called Ortygia, connected artificially with the mainland in 
ancient times. It was on this peninsula, about two miles 
in circumference, which partially forms the greater port, 
that the town of Syracuse was first founded. As it rose in 
importance and prosperity it overflowed on to the mainland, 
until five new towns, there situated, were comprised within 
its walls. By degrees these suburbs or towns of former days 
have decayed and crumbled into dust, until now a few ruins 
are the only evidence of their presence. The most impor- 
tant and interesting are the Latomiae or quarries, the cata- 
combs, the remains of the Greek theatre, of the Roman 
amphitheatre, of the walls that surrounded the city, and 
fragments of various temples and buildings. All these ruins 
are deserving of careful study and investigation, as is the 
town itself. The latter contains much to interest the 
classical traveller, and more especially a temple of Minerva, 
now doing duty as the cathedral, and the fountain of Are- 
thusa, still as clear and as abundant as when in olden times 
the Greeks thought they saw in it the nymph Arethusa 
hastening to the sea, and mingling her waters with those 
of her lover Alpheus, the river god, from whom she had 
tried in vain to fly. 

The fountain of Arethusa is an abundant spring of 
fresh water, which bursts out of a cave on the seashore 
of the island of Ortygia, and which was and is still sepa- 
rated from the sea by one of the bastions of the city 
wall, so as to form a semicircular pool or basin. It was 
supposed to be part of a neighbouring river, the Alpheus, 
which had passed under the sea that separates the island 
from the mainland by a subterranean passage. Thus 
Virgil describes it in the " JEueid :" 



SYRACUSE — CLIMATE. 453 

'- Alpheum fama est hue, Elidis arnnern, 
Occultas egisse vias subter, mare; qui nunc 
Ore, Arethusa, tuo Sieulis confunditur undis." 

Carried away by classical recollections, I forgot at first 
meteorological and botanical studies, but soon my thoughts 
returned to a more practical channel. At Syracuse, and 
in the plains that surround it, I found that the cooling 
influence of snow-clad Etna was evidently less. The Lemon 
and Orange trees were creeping out of valleys and shelter, 
and were larger. Still even here, in the extreme south of 
Sicily, the value of protection is fully illustrated. The 
two largest Orange and Lemon trees that I saw in Sicily 
were growing in one of the Latomiae; the Lemon tree was 
as large as a goodrsized oak. These Latomiae are enor- 
mous excavations or quarries in the solid rock, made in 
the days of Syracusan prosperity, to furnish stone for its 
temples, its walls, its buildings. In one of these were 
long confined Nicias and the seven thousand Athenians 
taken with him on the banks of the river Asinarus, when 
they fled, defeated, from the walls of Syracuse. Another, 
a vast excavation in the shape of the letter S, is still called 
Dionysius' ear, from its being supposed that it was exca- 
vated in this shape in order that the tyrant Dionysius 
might hear the conversation of his prisoners, from a private 
chamber acoustically contrived. 

These quarries or excavations, from fifty to one hundred 
feet deep, have been for centuries converted into gardens, 
and are the scene of the most luxuriant fertility ; some of 
the Lemon and* Orange trees are regular forest trees. At 
the bottom of this novel kind of Sicilian conservatory they 
have sunshine and warmth, and quite escape all cold winds. 

The view from Syracuse and from the heights to the 
north-east called Acradina, where the principal part of 
old Syracuse was built, extends over a marshy, ill-cul- 
tivated, unhealthy plain, through which meanders the 
river Anapus. This plain, of alluvial soil, contributed to 
maintain the eight hundred thousand people the city for- 
merly contained. The soil and sun are there, still the same, 
but the labour of former days, the energetic action of man, 
is wanting. 



454 SICILY. 

The more I see of the south of Europe the more I he- 
come convinced that its vaunted fertility is a mere myth, 
unless lahour and capital can be brought to bear. Southern 
rivers, left to themselves carry devastation with them, 
denude the mountain regions, overflow the plains, and 
render them pestilential marshes, as we have seen when 
speaking of Corsica. It requires immense labour, and 
great capital, to keep them within bounds, to make them 
fertilize the regions which they would otherwise destroy or 
render uninhabitable. Withdraw the labour, leave them 
to themselves, and you very soon get marshes like the 
Pontine, the Tuscan, the Corsican, now all but uninhabi- 
table from malaria, but which formerly nourished hundreds 
of thousands of inhabitants. On the other hand the 
mountain sides, the dry plains in the south, left alone, un- 
watered, are parched, burnt up by the sun. They too 
require labour and capital for their inherent fertility to be 
developed. 

Syracuse was the most southern region of Sicily that I 
reached. I was very desirous, as previously stated, to 
have examined the central and south-western regions of the 
island, and could easily have done so by returning to 
Palermo through these parts of the island. The reports 
of danger to travellers, however, that reached me at Palermo 
w r ere confirmed at Syracuse, so I thought it best to retrace 
my steps, and return by Catania, and Messina. 

Limited as it thus proved, my exploration of Sicily 
was, however, sufficiently extensive to demonstrate the fact 
already asserted — viz., that four or five degrees of latitude 
barely compensate for the complete protection from north 
winds which is found in the more favoured parts of the 
.Riviera, between Nice and Genoa. The proof of this cli- 
mate fact is found in the circumstance, that not only are the 
vegetable productions of Sicily and of the Riviera all but 
identical, but that the progress of spring is the same in the 
two regions. We may allow an advantage to Sicily, even 
on the north and east coast, where there is complete shelter 
and protection from the north, or from cold mountain 
blasts. No doubt on the south-western coast, opposite 
Africa, this advantage is still greater, but I do not think it 



FROM MESSINA TO MARSEILLES. 455 

would be possible for invalids to pass the winter in any of 
the small towns of the south-western coast with any degree 
of comfort. It may at least be surmised that such is the 
case, from the fact alone that travellers have to take pro- 
visions with them, as for a sea voyage. 

On returning to Messina I learnt, to my very great 
satisfaction, that the French steamer was expected from 
Alexandria the next day, and would sail for Marseilles 
direct. That day was spent rather anxiously waiting for 
it ; the sense of isolation had increased upon me, and now 
that my thoughts were turned homewards, I was anxious 
to depart even from sunny, smiling Sicily. I shall not 
readily forget the pleasure with which I saw the Eury- 
ant he enter the port towards evening, as I was sitting 
alone at the window of my room. She is a noble screw 
steamer of more than two thousand tons, and glided 
silently and majestically into the port, like a large black 
swan, like a thing of life. 

We started that evening, passed, the ever-smoking, ever- 
flaming Stromboli volcano a few hours later, and then were 
soon out of sight of land in the old Tyrrhenian Sea. The 
steamer was a splendid ship, with accommodation for a 
hundred and thirty cabin passengers. As there were not 
thirty on board, I had a large cabin to myself, where I slept 
nearly as well as I should have done in my own house. We 
were three nights and two days on board, from Monday 
evening to Thursday morning, when we reached Marseilles, 
and, as the weather continued fine, I quite enjoyed the 
voyage, although a bad sailor in bad weather. 

My compagnon this time was a middle-aged merchant 
captain, who had been beating about the world for more 
than thirty years. He told me many strange tales, but 
none more interesting than his own. Three years previous 
he was in command of a merchant ship bound for Buenos 
Ayres. When nearing the American coast he was overtaken 
by a terrible storm, and after battling with the elements for 
three days and nights, the ship became water-logged, utterly 
unmanageable, and was cast ashore. The breakers and surf 
were terrific, and, alone of all the crew, he reached the land, 
he scarcely knew how. On recovering from the first stupor 



456 sicily, 

he found that the coast was a low sandy one, with no evi- 
dence of habitation. He was overcome with fatigue and 
drowsiness, never having slept for three nights and days, 
and finding two empty casks on the beach, knocked the 
heads out, put them close together, and crept in for shelter, 
as there was a cold wind blowing. In this impromptu 
retreat he slept twelve or fifteen hours, but, on awaking, 
found that he could not move. The two casks had slightly 
paited, and between the two a small chink or space remained, 
through which the wind had struck his loins, producing a 
hand of acute rheumatic pain. He was rescued by some of 
the inhabitants of the country, attracted to the spot by the 
wreck, but never recovered the effects of the night's expo- 
sure, and had never since then been able to follow his usual 
seafaring life. He had consequently accepted the office of 
surveyor to Lloyds. 

The duty of the surveyors to this insurance company is 
to transport themselves, when ordered, to any point- where 
a -wreck occurs, to examine into the circumstances of the 
case, in the interest of the company, and to make certain 
that the claim made for insurance is perfectly true and real. 
He had just been sent in this manner to the vicinity of 
Brindisi, in the Adriatic. A vessel laden with corn had 
gone aground in a gale, and the captain had reported that 
it was a perfect wreck, and that ship and cargo were lost. 
On arriving he found the ship stranded, but not broken up, 
and by a judicious expenditure of five hundred pounds, he 
got it off, thus saving both ship and cargo, and his employers 
many thousand pounds. He told me that he lived with his 
wife and family at Bath, and that he was thus liable at an 
hour's notice to be sent to any part of the globe on similar 
missions. He was paid by a regular salary, with the addi- 
tion of travelling expenses. It is a singular position, to be 
quietly at home with one's family in the morning, in an 
inland town, liable to be sent at an hour's notice to any part 
of the habitable world, say to China, to Australia, to South 
America. 

On the morning of the second day we passed through 
the straits between Corsica and Bonifacio. These straits 
are most picturesque, and the steamer glides between rocks 



THE STRAITS OF BONIFACIO— A SHIPWRECK. 457 

and islets, very similar to those that skirt the coast on the 
way from the Crinan canal to Oban. Caprera is passed at 
the eastern entrance of the straits, and we looked with 
interest at Garibaldi's little house, which we saw distinctly. 
These straits are free from danger in fine weather, but are 
very perilous in stormy times, especially to sailing 
vessels, which are constantly lost in winter. I was told 
of a singular and disastrous wreck that occurred at the 
time of the Crimean war. A French transport, with two 
regiments on board, on their way from Toulon to the 
Crimea, was wrecked near Bonifacio, but the men saved,. 
They managed to land on the Corsican coast, and were 
taken back to Toulon. From thence they made a fresh 
start for the Crimea, in a steam frigate, the Seinillairie. 
Again at the Straits of Bonifacio they encountered a severe 
storm, and this time the vessel ran on a rock, foundered, 
aud out of 2500 men, not a soul was saved. There was a 
fatality over these poor soldiers ; they were not to escape a 
watery tomb. Hundreds of bodies were thrown up on the 
adjoining shores, and were buried in the cemetery of one of 
the islands. The body of the captain was found dressed in 
full uniform, with all his decorations on; he had dressed 
to die ! 

Our progress continued easy and prosperous in the 
splendid ship. Several times the sea rose, but we scarcely 
felt it, so great was the size of the vessel, and so free was 
it from motion. On the Thursday morning we reached 
Marseilles, fifty-six hours after leaving Messina, and then 
all isolation finished, for even thus early I found myself in 
the midst of valued friends, 



CHAPTER XIII. 

SARDINIA. 

THE VOYAGE — LA. MADDELENA — THE STRAITS OE BONIEACIO — PHYSICAL 

GEOGRAPHY — PORTO TORRES SASSABI — OSILIO ORISTANO — IGLESIAS 

— THE ZINC AND LEAD MINES — CAGLIARI. 

On the 19th of April, 1874, I left Leghorn for Porto 
Torres, in the Straits of Bonifacio, and the principal northern 
port of Sardinia, touching at Bastia. It was no longer my 
old friend the Virgilio which performed this voyage, but a 
long narrow fast steamer, quite new. Fortunately for the 
passengers the weather was calm, as otherwise we should 
have suffered fearfully, all these long narrow swift steamers 
being " terrible" rollers. On this occasion again I escaped 
a terrible storm by consulting the barometer. I intended 
starting by a previous steamer on the 15th, but the 
barometer collapsed half an inch, so I went to Florence, 
stayed there a few days, and on the 19th had the benefit of 
the lull that usually follows a storm. Thus once more I 
had a calm and pleasant passage to Bastia, remaining on 
deck all day, watching at first the receding mountains of 
the mainland, and later those of Corsica, as they loomed 
larger and larger on the horizon. 

On this occasion we passed close under the island of 
Capraja, which lies midway between Leghorn and Corsica. 
It is a rocky mountainous islet, which rises boldly out of 
the sea to a considerable elevation, and is only a few miles 
in circumference. Its precipitous slopes are covered with 
vegetation; and on the southern shore there is a village, 
with its small church, principally inhabited by fishermen. 
There is, I was told, but little communication with the 
mainland, and life on such an islet must be merely an 
improved edition of living in Eddy stone lighthouse. And 
yet, were we at Capraja, we should find the drama of life, 
with its vicissitudes and passions, going on as in the largest 
cities. Human life is everywhere the same, and mankind 



LA MADDELENA. 459 

everywhere reproduces its characteristics, only on a different 
stage, and in a more or less dramatic form. 

In the afternoon we came-to outside the port of Bastia, 
and I had the pleasure of welcoming a boatload of pre- 
viously apprized Corsican friends. Their warm greeting 
made me regret that I could not remain on the hospitable 
shores of their lovely island. As soon, however, as we had 
delivered and received our letters and passengers, we again 
started, this time for Sardinia. The steamers run along 
the eastern shore of Corsica all the way to the Straits, so 
that I spent the evening, until nightfall, gazing on the 
well-remembered mountains and coast line. 

The moon rose early, shedding its radiance over the 
tremulous sea, and reminding me of Virgil's charming 
hemistich : 

". . . splendet tremulo sub lumine pontus." 

The night was peaceful, and when we reached the deck 
the next morning at six o'clock, the steamer was lying 
in front off the town and island of La Maddelena. 
The rocky island of Maddelena is one of an intricate 
Archipelago of small islands which occupy the eastern 
extremity of the Straits of Bonifacio, half way between 
Corsica and Sardinia. It has a good port, and is so 
sheltered by the other islands that we appeared to be in a 
lake, surrounded by rocks and mountains. This position 
gives a most picturesque appearance to the little town, 
which is built on a gentle slope rising from the sea. The 
patch of small, one or two-storied houses, and the humble 
church, nestling on the sea-shore, with a background of 
grey rocky mountains in close proximity, had a charming 
effect, enhanced by the sunshine and the freshness of an 
early morn in a southern region. We unloaded lots of 
stores into the barks that put off from the shore, iron 
bedsteads, iron railings, furniture, groceries, some large 
mirrors, kegs of spirits, and many other evidences of 
modern civilization. Little Maddelena, owing to its central 
position, is a kind of thriving commercial emporium for 
these parts, especially for Sardinia. Caprera occupied the 
horizon, and Garibaldi's white house was quite visible. 

Once more under weigh we soon emerged from our 
marine u lake " into the wider and more open part of the 



SARDINIA 




par Erhard . i2.r .Duguay-TYoum . Par 



460 SARDINIA. 

Straits, passing a little rocky islet on which, was a large 
iron cross to commemorate the loss of the French transport, 
the Semillante, in 1856. It was on this rock that it 
struck on a stormy winter's night. As I have elsewhere 
stated not a soul was saved out of 2500 on board ! Our 
captain, an experienced talkative old Genoese sailor, who 
had been forty years at sea, said the vessel was lost owing 
to the inexperience of the captain. He was considered to 
be a good and experienced officer, but had never been in 
the Straits of Bonifacio before, and as there are no pilots 
he had to navigate his vessel by charts, and that in a 
stormy dark winter's night through islands, rocks, and 
shoals, calculated to try the most experienced seaman ! 
My friend thought he could have carried the vessel safely 
through even on such a night, but then he had been in the 
Straits a thousand times, in all weathers, in all seasons, day 
and night. That very night he was at sea between Naples 
and Cagliari in a small steamer, and was all but lost 
although in open water ; he only saved his vessel by dint 
of seamanship. The French captain ought never to have 
ventured the passage in such weather. There was shelter 
within reach on the Sardinian shore, but, being ignorant of 
the locality, and clearly unaware of the fact, he continued 
his course, and thus sacrificed his own life and those of 
2500 men ! 

On passing out of the straits we had Corsica to the 
north, the open sea to the west, and the Gulf of Asinara to 
the south-west. Our course was directed to the south- 
western extremity of the latter, its most sheltered region, 
and at one o'clock we reached Porto Torres. Our entrance 
into the small harbour was for some time impeded by a 
large French transport, which was embarking Sardinian 
ponies. This pleasing occupation was continued with the 
utmost calmness, just as if we had not been waiting, and 
we had the pleasure of seeing many young ponies dangling 
in the air, in a state of great terror and agony of mind, 
and also of witnessing an attack of southern indignation 
with which our really amiable captain was seized. His 
eyes literally flashed fire, his hair all but stood on end, and 
he all but foamed at the mouth with indignation. Nor 



Physical geography of Sardinia. 461 

was lie silent ; on the contrary, he gave vent to a torrent of 
objurgation and vituperation, which proved to us a first 
rate lesson in Italian. At last the obstacle to our entrance 
was overcome and we entered. 

Thus ended our voyage from Leghorn to Sardinia through 
the much dreaded Straits of Bonifacio, which, owing to the 
fine weather, proved a mere pleasure cruise. I have now 
on three different occasions passed through them and 
always in calm weather, so that it requires on my part an 
effort of imagination to think of these Straits as storm and 
wave tossed, lashed into fury by the hurricane, and as the 
grave of many noble ships — of many thousands of hardy 
mariners. 

PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY OP SARDINIA. 

Sardinia is an island 147 miles long, between latitude 
38° and 41°, and 70 wide in its broadest part. It is 
in nine-tenths of its extent a mountainous region, but the 
mountains do not rise so high as those of Corsica. The 
mountains in the northern and western region are mostly 
granitic. When not of this formation they are principally 
palaeozoic, often schistic, with basalt cropping out, or with 
calcareous formations lying on the schists. It is prin- 
cipally at this point of contact that minerals, lead and zinc, 
are discovered. Between Porto Torres and Sassari there 
is a lime formation, mixed with white sand, so that the 
vegetation of lime soils is rife ; but in a considerable 
portion of the island the soil is exclusively granitic or 
schistic, and in these regions the vegetation assumes the 
characteristics of such soils. 

The mountains of Sardinia occupy the eastern and 
western regions of the island ; the centre is constituted by 
a series of plains, running from north to south, elevated in 
the northern half, low and marshy in the lower or southern 
half. They are called campidani. Through the kind of 
shaft thus formed by the mountains, running north and 
south on each side, and the plains in the middle, the north- 
west and the north-east winds rush down without obstacle 
of any kind, and arrive at Cagliari, in the south, still as 
cold winds in the winter months. Thus are impressed 



462 SARDINIA. 

upon these plains, and even upon Cagliari itself, the charac- 
teristics of a winter climate much colder than that of the 
western Genoese Riviera, as evidenced by vegetation. 
Such is the result of the want of protection from north 
winds even in the south of the Mediterranean, three 
degrees further south than the Riviera. 

The mountains on the east and west appeared to me, as 
far as I saw them, to have been thrown up in great con- 
fusion, forming elevated valleys and mountain summits 
running in all directions. I did not see the regular high 
ridges or spurs descending regularly to the sea, from east to 
west, as in western Corsica, and enclosing protected valleys. 
Some of the eastern mountains attain a considerable eleva- 
tion. Thus M. Gennargentu is 6293 feet above the sea. 

Thus the vegetation of the mountains and valleys on the 
south-eastern side of the island, about Iglesias, where I 
examined them, presents a southern vegetation, it is true, 
but not a vegetation indicating exceptional winter warmth, 
as on the western Genoese Riviera — rather the reverse. 

POEtO TOftBES — SASSAEJ. 

Porto Torres is merely composed of a few small houses, 
wineshops, and warehouses. Owing to the proximity of 
soft water marshes and lakes formed by the partial closure 
of the mouth of a small river, Porto Torres is a prey to 
malaria, and so unhealthy during the summer and autumn 
that no one remains who can possibly get away. The 
Great Sardinian Railway, which will soon pass through the 
entire length of the island down to Cagliari, begins here, 
and has been open several years. Its existence has tended 
still more to depopulate Porto Torres, as both passengers 
and goods are now easily transferred to Sassari, eleven 
miles distant. 

The presence of a railway, with comfortable first-class 
carriages, throws such a halo of civilization over any place 
that it is impossible to think one's self in a barbarous or 
even out-of-the-way country where it exists. The impres- 
sion produced on me and on my travelling companion — for 
this time I had one, a nephew — -was, therefore, favourable ; 



POETO TORRES— SASSARI. 463 

and we arrived at Sassari in a very jubilant, contented 
frame of mind. 

Sassari, the capital of northern Sardinia, has a popula- 
tion of 32,000. It is situated at an elevation of 650 feet 
above the sea, which removes it from the pernicious 
influence of the marshes near the shore, and is built 
on the slope of a very steep hill. This hill, indeed, is so 
steep that it is a perfect toil to ascend from the lower to 
the upper part of the town, through the principal street. 
This we did on leaving the railway-station, and found 
tolerable accommodation at the Albergo d'ltalia. Most of 
the inns in unfrequented Italian towns only occupy one or 
two storeys in one of the ordinary houses, and this was no 
exception to the rule. However, we did not starve either 
here or anywhere else in Sardinia. What with good wine, 
good bread, and fresh eggs ad libitum — everywhere to be 
found in southern Europe — and with such fish, meat, or 
game as the traveller chances to get, no one need suffer 
from famine in the most unfrequented regions. Fleas at 
night are, no doubt, a trouble — a grievous one, and if 
allowed to have their way, would sorely mar the plea- 
sure and health-benefit of travelling with all whom they 
attack ; but a few bottles of Persian powder, orPoudre In- 
secticide, afford the means of offering battle, and what is 
more, of conquering. 

I had a letter of introduction to Signor Crispo, the 
leading physician at Sassari, and a retired Professor of the 
University. Under his guidance, and with his friendly 
assistance, I saw all that there was to be seen at Sassari in 
a couple of days — a new hospital, with large airy wards; a 
new prison, on the solitary Pentonville plan, which has 
cost 40,000^., and appeared to me sadly unsuited to the 
uncultivated minds of the half wild Sards; the University, 
with its lecture-rooms, library, and museum ; the Barracks ; 
the Italian Opera House ; and the public garden. 

There are many good shops at Sassari, and it is evidently 
the centre of an extensive district and of a large area of 
population, the wants of which it supplies. Its own popu- 
lation of 32,000, however, is composed, in a great measure, 
of agricultural labourers, who number 22,000, a fact which 



464 SARDINIA. 

illustrates a very singular social condition in Sardinia. 
They cultivate the surrounding country for many miles 
distant, walking or riding little wiry Sard horses, according 
to their means. This state of things is a feature through- 
out Sardinia. The entire population lives still in the few 
towns or large villages, the labourers losing a great part of 
their time and strength, morning and evening, in going to 
and from their work. There are no farm homesteads, and 
scarcely any small villages, even in the more fertile and 
more populated parts of the country. 

Many reasons are given for this state of things by the 
Sards themselves. Firstly, the insecurity of the country, 
until quite recently, owing to brigandage. Secondly, the 
fear of malaria, the towns and large villages being gene- 
rally built in regions considered free from malaria, and being 
considered healthier as towns than the country, which 
is generally feared as malarious. The peasants fly to the 
towns at night, under the impression that it is unwhole- 
some to sleep anywhere in the country. Thirdly, the 
strongly felt and expressed desire of the women to live 
together, with their relatives and friends, with whom they 
can gossip and talk all day. They are said to refuse 
positively to live isolated in the country, in a farmhouse for 
instance. 

The consequences are most disastrous in a social point of 
view. Although wages are not very high nominally, about 
two francs — Is. Sd. a day- — say 10s. a week, what with the 
journey to and from work, and a two hours' "siesta" in the 
middle of the day — the custom of the country — only five 
or six hours' lazy work is got out of a labourer. This, I 
was told, makes all agricultural operations ruinously ex- 
pensive. 

Then the children, brought up in towns, without milk, 
if the debilitated mother cannot give it, die like flies in 
autumn ; I was told that not two out of ten are reared. 
Two years ago there was an epidemic of diphtheria in 
Cagliari, and 800 of these half-fed or badly-fed children 
died of the disease in a population of 30,000. In August, 
1855, there was cholera in Sassari, which then had a popu- 
lation of 22,000, and one-third, or about 7000, died ! 



SASS ARI — OSILIO. 465 

Such is the result of cooping up an agricultural popula- 
tion in towns and large villages, without milk-producing 
animals for the children to feed on. During the first 
year of a child's life its very existence depends on its 
obtaining milk from some source or other. Thus is partly 
explained, also, the depressed state of agriculture and the 
falling off of the population of Sardinia, everywhere observed 
and lamented. 

On April 22, on a beautiful clear, sunny, but cool day, 
I made an excursion from Sassari, itself elevated 650 
feet above the sea, to Osilio, a small town 1200 feet 
high, about ten miles distant. In the immediate vicinity 
of the town we passed through a wood of large Olive 
trees, which are generally found on the sides of limestone 
hills, on rising ground, and disappear when the soil 
becomes granitic or basaltic. Along with them were 
Almond and Peach trees in full leaf, fruit large, ten days 
or more in advance of Tuscany ; Broad Beans ripening, 
Pear trees in full flower and leaf, corn three inches high, 
Corn Poppies, Garlic, Dandelion, small Euphorbias in 
flower, Flax in flower, Bugloss, Pellitory, a small Marigold, 
a small red Geranium which in places covered the ground, 
Groundsel, Plantain, Oxalis, Mustard in flower, Mallows, 
Ivy (vigorous, covering walls), the large variegated southern 
Thistle, Chrysanthemum segetum (very abundant), Black- 
berry (vigorous), and large hedges of Opuntia or the Prickly 
Pear. 

As we progressed we got out of the lime soil into basalt, 
and the vegetation changed. The Ivy, Olives, and fruit 
trees disappeared, and were replaced by the Stone Pine, 
the Maritime Pine, Asphodel, Ferula, Pteris aquilina, 
Oaks without leaves ; Elms, first leaves only showing ; 
Oats in flower under cultivation. On the whole without 
mountain protection, exposed to north winds, the ground 
vegetation appeared to me about ten days in advance of 
Spezzia, owing to the greater power of the sun in a locality 
two degrees more south. 

Every year, in whatever region of the Mediterranean 
I happen to be, I notice the remarkable iact that the 
surface vegetation is much in advance as compared with 

H H 



466 SARDINIA. 

the tree vegetation — that of the deeper soil. Thus flowers 
are often six weeks, or even two months, in advance of our 
own country, whilst trees are seldom more than three 
weeks, and that quite in the South Mediterranean regions. 
The explanation is no doubt that in early spring the 
power of the sun, much greater in the south than in the 
north, warms the surface of the soil so as to induce rapid 
surface vegetation, long before the deeper soil, where the 
roots of trees lie, can be warmed enough to start them into 
life and growth. 

The tree vegetation showed no difference as compared 
with the mainland one or two degrees more north ; and I did 
not see a trace of Orange or Lemon trees. The summer 
heat at Sassari is clearly more than enough for their 
welfare, as shown by the luxuriance of the Opuntia or 
prickly Pear hedges, but owing to the want of mountain 
protection from east to west, to cut off the north winds, 
the winter cold proves too much for them. There is a 
sheltered valley behind the town, in which the Olive trees 
are very large, and in which Orange trees grow to a respect- 
able size, and ripen their fruit. In this latitude they will 
do so anywhere, if protected from the north wind. The 
Sassari people, however, did not appear to rely on their own 
oranges • all on sale were stated to come from Milis, near 
Oristano, one hundred miles south-west. 

The public garden at Sassari is very badly kept, full of 
weeds. I went over it carefully, but found no evidence of 
exceptional winter mildness of temperature ; rather the 
reverse. There were Elm and Robinia Pseud- Acacia just 
coming into leaf, Laurustinus still in flower, also Judas tree 
and Lilac ; Jasminum revolutum not in flower, hybrid 
Roses only just beginning to form buds, a few white Bengal 
Roses in a sheltered spot, Pinks not in flower ; Broom and 
garden Poppies the same. The only flowers were single 
Stocks, Iris, Medicago, Wall-flowers. In my garden at 
Mentone on April 1 (twelve days before), all mentioned in 
the above list as in flower, were going out of flower, and all 
mentioned as not in flower, were in flower, and yet Sassari 
is 200 miles more south. But then my garden is protected 
in winter from north winds by mountains running east and 



S ASSAM TO ORISTANO. 467 

west, and Sassari is not. In this public garden there were 
two miserable Palms, with a few terminal leases only, to 
which my cicerone, a native gentleman, pointed with pride; 
they were merely struggling for existence. On the other 
hand the Aloes and Yuccas were very fine— indicating, as 
did the Opuntia hedges, intense summer heat. 

From Sassari, in the north of Sardinia, to Cagliari in 
the south, a very good road has been recently made by the 
Government, at an expense of 157,000/. In two years the 
two capitals of Sardinia will be connected by a railroad, 
now in course of construction. At present the line is only 
finished and opened from Cagliari to Oristano in the south- 
west, and from Cagliari to Iglesias. Fifty miles more, due 
south from Sassari, are to be opened this summer. The 
communication is at present kept up by a small diligence, 
which leaves Sassari at 6 p.m., and reaches Oristano at 2 p.m. 
the next day — a very fatiguing journey. I adopted it, 
however, instead of taking a carriage and stopping on the 
way, much to my regret, as the road was said not to be 
quite safe. In proof of which we had two mounted carabi- 
neers in front of us all night, riding gravely in the moon- 
light. The sight of these troopers every time we looked 
out of the coupe window gave us a delightful sense of 
insecurity, bringing, as it did to our recollection, all the 
stories of brigands ever read. At Sassari I was told that 
there was really no danger, but that this precaution 
was taken merely because some months before a sum of 
gold sent by the diligence had been waylaid and seized. It 
appears, also, that the Sardinian brigands have not as yet 
attained the degree of refinement and mental cultivation 
which leads their Italian brethren to wage war on society 
as potentates, making prisoners and asking ransom ! I 
was informed that, if by any evil chance, anywhere in 
Sardinia, we did fall upon brigands, we were not to resist, 
but to meekly submit and to give them what we had on us, 
with which they would be completely satisfied. 

The warlike, fighting traditions of the past appear to 
have a greater hold over the popular mind and habits 
in the north of Sardinia than in the south. In the north 
nearly all the gentlemen and peasants we met out of Sassari 

H H 2 



4 08 SARDINIA. 

had a loaded gun slung over their shoulder, or in their 
hands, whether riding or walking ; as if every man still 
moved about with his life in his hands, ready to defend it 
against his neighbour. This custom, combined with the 
very peculiar costume of the peasants, gives an exceptionally 
defiant warlike look to the country. In the more southern 
regions, at Oristano and Cagliari, nothing of the kind was 
to be seen, the entire population was unarmed. Perhaps 
the existence of the railroad and the freedom of intercourse 
it has established accounts for the difference. 

As I have stated the costume of the peasants is peculiar, 
that of the men rather sombre but picturesque, that of 
the women less so. In the towns the men dress as on the 
continent, but in the country they preserve the national 
costume. It varies in different localities, but may be said 
generally to consist in a double-breasted leather or cloth 
waistcoat buttoned up to the throat, a kind of black kilt 
descending to the knee over loose linen or woollen drawers, 
and leather leggings ; the hair is worn long and loose, or 
gathered up in a net. The women indulge more in colour. 
Over their head on gala days they wear a yellow cloth 
with red border, or collect their hair in a net like the men. 
Some wear scarlet stockings and ornamented bodices or 
embroidered jackets thrown over a low corset. The 
petticoat is made full with small plaits, and the sleeves 
are divided in the Greek fashion. 

The coarse black cloth with which the men's clothes are 
principally made, is woven at home from sheep's wool. In 
the villages the houses are all of one story, even those of 
the better classes, and they are generally built of stone. I 
went over several houses at Osilio with my friend Professor 
Crispo, a native of the district, inhabited by his relatives 
and dependents, and noticed the evidence of a primitive 
style of life. Evidently most of the inhabitants of Osilio, 
such at least as were owners of land and cattle, were 
all but independent of the outer world. In one corner of 
their habitation was an old-fashioned hand loom with 
which they wove their cloth. In another corner was a 
heap of corn or maize, enclosed in immense baskets, or 
screens of matted cane, the year's " bread supply." What 



M ACOMER — NUR-H AGS. 469 

with wine, oil, corn, figs and fruit to eat, woollen cloth of 
their own making, and mutton of their own feedings they 
were really all but independent of the outer world; and 
this no doubt is the social state of the mountain peasants 
throughout Sardinia. 

For the first seventy miles of the road from Sassari to 
Oristano we were on high schistic plains, surrounded by a 
stunted vegetation consistent with such a soil and elevation. 
Asphodel, Ferula, Pteris aquilina a foot high, Cork and 
Ilex trees, Lentiscus, Cytisus, Cistus the rock Rose, not 
in flower, prickly Broom, Hawthorn, as in England in full 
flower, Blackberry, Mediterranean Heath, Arbutus. All 
these pknts constitute the beautiful maquis of Corsica, but 
they were growing here sparsely, never presenting the 
luxuriant growth of that island. Here and there were 
patches of corn, Oats, Flax, with a few fruit trees — Olive, 
Pear, Fig — near two or three large villages which we 
passed and where we changed horses. 

The road then ascends to a height of 2145 feet, reaching 
the plain of Campedclu which separates the waterflow of 
the island. On the north side of this plain water flows 
north, to the Gulf of Asinara, whilst on the south side it 
flows south, to the river Tirse. On the south margin of 
this plain we find the village of Macomer, 20 00 inhabi- 
tants, where the road begins to descend. In the vicinity 
of Macomer we saw, near the road, several of the sepulchral 
monuments called nur-hags, for which Sardinia is cele- 
brated. They are supposed to be sepulchral monuments 
built by the Phoenicians, and although they are constantly 
being destroyed for building materials they are still very 
numerous ; more than three thousand still exist. They 
are built of unwrought stones of colossal dimensions, 
arranged horizontally, present chambers internally, a small 
low opening externally, and are from thirty to sixty feet 
high, and from thirty-five to a hundred feet in diameter 
at the base. They are assimilated by antiquaries to the 
ancient towers of Orkney and Shetland, and to the round 
towers of Ireland, and are only met with in Sardinia and 
the Balearic Islands. 

Gradually a plain is reached nearly on the level of the 



470 SARDINIA. 

sea, at first dry, then marshy, and after 15 miles we come 
to Oristano. Formerly a town of considerable importance, 
it is now decayed — owing principally to extreme un- 
healthiness, from its being surrounded by soft water or 
by brackish ponds and marshes. 

The soil of this marshy alluvial plain is good, and a con- 
siderable portion of it is cultivated with corn, Beans, 
and Flax, or pastured. I was told that the ground in 
Sardinia is never manured at all, but that in this region 
its natural fertility is such that it bears every year, or that 
one year's fallow every three is sufficient to enable it to 
bear abundantly — one year corn, the next Beans, Peas, 
Vetches, or Flax. The most interesting feature in this 
plain is the singularly luxuriant hedges of Opuntia or 
prickly Pear, which remind us of what we read of in 
Mexico, and give a peculiarly southern character to the 
landscape. The roads, lanes, and properties are lined with 
hedges of this Opuntia, from eight to fifteen feet high, and 
from six to ten feet wide. They thus present an impene- 
trable fence to cattle and man, and give a very tropical 
look to the country. Inside these grotesque prickly fences 
grow many wild plants, especially a Clematis and our old 
friend the Blackberry, who, flourishing in the alluvial soil, 
more than holds his own. He entwines himself between 
the prickly branches in every direction, and at times seems 
to all but smother his southern friend. 

Otherwise there is no trace near Oristano of subtropical 
winter vegetation, and spring was no more advanced on 
April 26th than at Sassari on the 22nd. Evidently the 
cold winds rush down from the north in winter over the 
high plains and lower its temperature — like that of Sassari 
— below that of the Genoese Riviera, or of the mountain- 
sheltered east coast of Spain. 

The town of Oristano begins a few hundred yards beyond 
a bridge which crosses a good sized river, the Tirse, the 
largest I saw in Sardinia, and the origin of the lagoons 
and marshes, which render Oristano so unhealthy. In its 
struggles to reach the sea, to get over or round the bar 
which the winter storms form at its mouth, it overflows 
the entire country, and forms ponds and lakes near the shore. 



ORISTANO — THE MILIS ORANGE GROYES. 471 

The town is formed by a number of streets grouped round 
the old cathedral — a really fine monumental edifice. In the 
immediate vicinity of the cathedral there are some good 
houses inhabited by some of the old Sardinian nobility and 
gentry during the winter and spring. In summer and 
autumn all who can, fly from the malaria and spend these 
seasons in the higher mountain regions, in a very rough 
manner. Oristano, however, appears to be rising in pros- 
perity, for there were several new streets, and new houses 
all small. The railroad, no doubt, has had a deal to do 
with this change. In former days it was a large, populous, 
wealthy, and important city; probably the surrounding 
country was then better drained, and the exit of the river 
into the sea more cared for. 

There was some fete when we arrived, and the only 
" Albergo" was already full. But we had, fortunately, a 
letter of introduction to the Mayor of the town, a very 
amiable old retired Sardinian Colonel. He kindly took 
us under his wing, and secured us rooms over a cafe, 
just opposite the Opera, for the Oristanians have just built 
and opened a very pretty little opera-house, with a very 
tolerable Company ! They were performing all the leading 
Operas of the day, very respectably it was said. At 
Sassari, the Prima Donna, whom I went to hear, was 
a young English lady, with a really good and fine voice, 
and all the City was most enthusiastic about her. These 
remote Italian towns must be very good schools for an enthu- 
siastic votary of the art, such as this young lady clearly 
showed herself. In the smallest she is certain to meet with 
a sympathetic, musically-cultivated audience. 

Although there was no evidence of winter warmth at, or 
immediately around, Oristano, an excursion to the Orange 
groves of Milis showed me that all that was wanting was 
protection from the north. Milis is situated at the foot of 
a mountain spur, running east and west, about twelve miles 
north-west of Oristano, and looks due south. 

This Orange wood or orchard, two miles in length by 
half a mile in width, has been celebrated for ages, and 
supplies all Sardinia with Oranges. It belongs principally 
to the Marquis of Boyle, a Sardinian nobleman. A never- 



472 SARDINIA. 

failing rivulet of mountain water runs through, and enables 
the cultivators to put the entire orchard under water every 
fortnight during the summer. If an Orange tree is to 
produce good fruit it must be watered thoroughly during 
summer at least twice a month. Thus these trees have the 
all- important shelter from the north in winter, water and 
intense heat in summer. 

I spent a day in this Orange grove, and examined it 
very carefully. The trees are planted very near to each 
other, only eight or ten feet from stem to stem ; they are 
mostly old trees, a hundred years or more, judging from 
the diameter of the bole low down — one, two, and even 
three feet. They are not beautiful trees like those at 
Milianah in Algeria, for they are generally allowed to 
divide into two or three branches, two or three feet from 
the ground. These large branches run up fifteen to twenty 
feet, and form a canopy of fruit-bearing branchlets, which 
unite with those of the surrounding trees, and form a 
complete shade on the ground ; indeed moss was growing 
on it in many places. 

The impression on the beholder is, that the trees are too 
numerous ; but I was told that the experience of centuries 
has proved that this is the best plan to grow them, in 
order to keep the ground cool and moist during the fierce 
glare of the summer's sun. No manure is ever given, only 
water ; the soil is a deep alluvial one, and the situation is 
ten miles from the sea. The head cultivator told me that 
the Orange trees raised from seed were peculiarly liable to 
die, just as they had become good bearing trees, of a 
disease he called secco. The small branches at first, and 
then the larger ones, dry up and wither, and in a few years 
the entire tree dies. He showed me among scores of trees 
intermingled those that were dying without the trace of 
grafting, whereas those that bore the trace of the graft 
near them were sound and healthy. Now, he said, he 
never planted other than grafted trees. I ate a number of 
the Oranges gathered here, and found them very good. 
The Orange tree is a tropical tree, and finds here in 
summer the tropical heat that suits its constitution, whilst 



ORISTANO TO IGLESIAS. 473 

(lie mountains behind shelter it from the north winds, 
which prevent its growing in most regions of Sar- 
dinia. In the very midst of this Orange grove I found a 
few Lemon trees in full bearing; they were the only 
Lemon trees I saw in Sardinia. On the Riviera, from 
Nice to St. Remo, they are, as we have seen, the principal 
agricultural product. 

Oristauo exhausted, we took the railway to Iglesias, a 
town in the south-western extremity of the island, the 
principal centre of the mining interests. Iglesias is reached 
by a branch, which leaves the main line between Oristano 
and Cagliari, at about an hour's distance from the latter 
city. Thus we descended, along the level marshy plain, 
which separates the two cities, to within twenty miles of 
Cagliari, and then leaving it, ascended into the mountain 
region. The main line runs nearly at a dead level, ap- 
parently only a few feet above the sea, and the watershed 
of the mountains on each side falling into this plain, with- 
out being able to find an exit, gives rise to extensive 
marshes. No doubt within comparatively recent geological 
times this plain was below the sea-level, and then the 
south-western part of Sardinia must have been an island. 
Notwithstanding the marshy, unhealthy character of the 
plain, it was evidently a property owned by some one, and 
vigorous attempts at cultivation were being made wherever 
the slightest elevation appeared to make drainage feasible. 
There were also, here and there, droves of ponies and of 
other cattle. The malarious season had not yet arrived 
(April 25th), and the inhabitants of the sparse villages had 
not yet retreated to the mountains. Crowds of picturesque 
people got in and out at every station, and appeared much 
to enjoy the still novel mode of locomotion. 

Soon after leaving the main line a gentle rise commences, 
ponds and marshes cease to show themselves on each side, 
and dry land appears. Simultaneously villages are seen, and 
around them the southern evidences of fertility in the 
shape of Olive, Almond, Peach, and Pear trees, of Vines 
and of cereal cultivation. The natives were invariably 
dressed in sheepskin vests, with the national black woollen 



474 SARDINIA. 

petticoat, or skirt, and leggings. They were evidently 
clothed for cold not for warm weather, and in woollen gar- 
ments calculated to protect them from chills. 

The gradually increasing extent of cultivation showed 
that we were approaching a centre of civilization and 
prosperity, a fact which became evident when we reached 
Iglesias. This little town, situated on the south-eastern 
slope of a mountain spur five hundred feet above the sea- 
level, is the capital of the mining works of this part of 
Sardinia. The district is rich in minerals, principally 
carbonate of zinc or calamine, and lead containing silver. 
Within the last ten years scores of mines have been opened 
by Italian, French, and English companies, in this the 
south-western angle of Sardinia, comprised between Oris- 
tano, Iglesias, Cagliari and the sea, the richest mineral 
region of the island, whilst many more have been con- 
ceded and will soon be opened. Several of these companies 
employ from five to twelve hundred workmen, and are 
making very good returns. The zinc and lead lie generally 
at the point of contact of a calcareous rock which overlies 
the silurian schists of which the mountains are formed. 
Thus, in most instances, the mineral is easily reached, 
merely by driving galleries in the flanks of the mountains. 
The ancient Romans were aware of the mineral riches of 
this part of Sardinia, and traces of their workings are found 
in many localities both in this and in other parts of the 
island. The zinc and lead deposits are not confined to the 
Iglesias region, they are found in nearly all the mountains. 
There are many mines now at work in the northern and 
western ranges. 

As the entire mining population centres at Iglesias, from 
whence all their wants are supplied, and from whence the 
new roads made and making depart, large sums of money 
are poured into it, and on every side there is the evidence 
of material prosperity and well doing, numerous shops and 
new houses, and a well fed and healthy population. Igle- 
sias is all but out of reach of malaria, and moreover we 
were just at the end of winter, evidently bracing enough and 
cold enough to bring: roses to the cheeks of the children 
and of the women. There was a freedom and ease about the 



IGLESIAS — FRIENDS — THE MINES. 475 

latter which, argued constant communion with the world. 
In the northern villages and small towns the women con- 
stantly draw their veils over the lower part of their face, 
concealing their mouth as in the East. Here nothing of 
the kind was seen; they walked about with as little 
shyness, and with as much self-possession as the men. 

We found a tolerably decent inn of the usual Italian 
kind, but I had brought a letter of introduction from a 
mutual friend to an English gentleman, the head of several 
of the mines, and he kindly insisted on our taking up our 
quarters with him. Once installed in his hospitable house 
we were as comfortable as we should have been in our own 
home, and greatly enjoyed the change. My new friend 
had been apprised of our advent, and had organized an 
expedition into the mountains, to visit the mines under his 
management, to which we assented with joy. As there 
are no roads, only horse tracks, and as but scanty supplies 
are to be found at the end of each day's march, due 
preparation had to be made. Whilst my kind host was 
thus preparing for our comfort I employed the interval in 
exploring the town and its vicinity. 

Iglesias must have been a place of some little importance 
in former days, commanding the plains on the one hand, 
and the mountain region, of which it was the key, on the 
other. There are still extant the ruins of a large and 
powerful fortress built on the most elevated point, which 
overlooked the town and its approaches. Formerly there 
were no roads whatever into the mountains, merely horse 
tracks, now many good ones have been made, or are being 
made by the companies that are working the mines, and by 
other companies that have bought forests, and all radiate 
from Iglesias. 

The immediate vicinity is very fresh, green, and fertile, 
presenting many orchards of fruit trees — Olives, Almonds, 
Peach, Pear, and Vines, and a few small Orange trees in 
sheltered nooks. There are many pretty country walks in 
the vicinity, rendered very quaint and foreign by the 
hedges of Prickly Pear. A walk that I took, on a 
beautiful mild evening, along a footpath six feet wide, 
winding up the side of a hill on a gentle slope, presented 



476 SARDINIA. 

one of the loveliest scenes I ever witnesssd. The Opuntia 
hedge was from six to eight feet high, and above six feet 
broad at its base. Growing with wild luxuriance amongst 
the ramifications of the Prickly Pear, twining round them 
in every sense, filling every vacant space, every corner, in 
luxuriant profusion of growth and blossom, were the wild 
creepers and flowers of the district, amongst which I 
marked the following : — Vinca major, Clematis, Smilax, a 
Bryony, Honeysuckle, Convolvulus, coloured Peas, Aspa- 
ragus, Borage, Hemlock, Fumitory, Euphorbia, Mustard, 
wild Mignonette, Oats in flower, Marigold, a Globularia, 
Poppies, yellow Corn-flower, variegated Thistle, Pellitory, 
Woodruff, and Chickweed. There was not a sprig of Ivy, the 
soil being entirely schistic, without lime. The comparison 
of the date, April 26, the epoch of perfect flowering of the 
above plants in southern Sardinia, with their date of flower- 
ing in England or elsewhere, will give a very correct idea of 
the difference of the spring climate in the different localities. 
The start for the mountains was made April the 27th, 
after breakfast. We had about fifteen miles to ride on 
Sardinian ponies to reach our destination, the lead mine of 
Aqua Rese. The road, a mere rough stony track, carried 
us over the last slopes of the higher mountains, through 
a district denuded of trees, but covered with the usual 
Mediterranean brushwood of schistic and siliceous soils. 
I was told that my wiry little Sard horse was as mild 
as a lamb, provided he was not allowed to approach any 
other horse. In the latter case I was to be cautious, as 
he nourished a deadly hatred to his species, was apt to rear, 
to fly at them like a bulldog, to fasten on them with his 
teeth, and to do his victim great injury ! As I had seen 
this process performed on a memorable occasion in Corsica, 
I was not particularly anxious that my pony should repeat 
it whilst I was on his back, so I kept at first at a most 
respectful distance from my companions. Finding him, 
however, thoroughly tractable to the hand, I gradually 
gained courage, and became filled with admiration for his 
good points. He really proved with me as gentle and 
tractable as a lamb ; and, moreover, so sure footed, so 
strong of limb, that we ascended precipices like the side of 



THE MINES — AQUA HESE. 477 

a house, descended slopes ail but perpendicular, and crawled 
up and down among stones and rocks many feet in height; 
indeed, he behaved like a cat on a house top, with me 
on his back. One gets accustomed to everything, and 
although at first rather nervous and alarmed, long before 
the day was over I was as self-possessed as a tight rope 
dancer. 

We were received at the mine of Aqua Rese by the 
director, a German engineer, who spoke English like a 
native. He made us thoroughly comfortable and at home 
in his little house, built on a terrace on the mountain side, 
near the works. This terrace overlooks a picturesque wind- 
ing valley, which ends on the sea shore about nine miles 
distant. The owners of the mine have made a good carriage 
road through this valley by means of which the metal is 
taken to the western sea for shipment. After dinner we 
examined the mine, which is very interesting. These mines 
are generally worked, as already stated, by gaieties ex- 
cavated from the mountain sides, the communication 
between different galeries being sometimes established by 
shafts. I found our host a very scientific well-informed 
man, full of mining lore, indeed, saturated with it. He 
was a scientific chemist and geologist, but all his knowledge 
on these subjects seemed to take instinctively the direction 
of mining and metallurgy. He had practically studied 
mining in many parts of the world, on the continent, in 
Asia, in Batavia. Study, he said, was the great solace of 
his solitary life, for he was all but alone for eight months 
of the year, surrounded by an ignorant and lawless mob 
of workmen. There were many hundred men under his 
charge, and as the mining pay was good, it attracted not 
only Sards but thousands from the continent ; some of 
them were honest and true, but many were the scum of the 
continental cities, which they had made too hot for them. 
The only way to secure discipline was to exact implicit obedi- 
ence, and to dismiss instantly those who resisted. Sometimes 
he had to dismiss twenty or more at an hour's notice, regard- 
less of their black looks and of their muttered threats. In 
his room our host had quite an armoury of guns and 
revolvers, ready for emergencies, he laughingly remarked. 



478 SARDINIA. 

In working the mines, contracts are entered into with 
sub- men at so much the solid metre, the price depending on 
the facility or difficulty of extraction, and on the quality of 
the ore. These sub-men engage the workers and divide the 
receipts with them according to certain rates. During the 
malaria months, from June to October, the mines in Sar- 
dinia are all but closed, and nearly all the officials have a 
holiday, withdrawing to the mainland for safety. 

The next morning we again started after breakfast for 
another mine, Pala Guttura, about sixteen miles distant, 
in the midst of the higher mountains. Our track at first 
again took us over a purely schistic formation, and the 
vegetation was the same as the day previous. The scenery 
was very like that of the highlands of Scotland, only instead 
of Heather we had the Corsican maquis, Lentiscus, Cytisus, 
Asphodel, Ferula, Arbutus, Mediterranean Heath, and in 
moist localities purple Cyclamen. Then appeared Myrtle, 
Clematis, Smilax, and Ivy, also wild Pear-trees sown by 
birds, showing that lime was beginning to mingle with the 
schistic soil; as it became more and more a component, 
these plants increased in luxuriance of development. 

We were constantly climbing alongside and over moun- 
tains 1000 or 1500 feet high, or descending into valleys 
nearly as deep. In the early part of the day these moun- 
tains were all but denuded of timber, which had been ruth- 
lessly cut down, for there were thousands of large stumps 
dotting the mountain side. It appears that ten years ago 
a Leghorn merchant bought many square miles of mountain 
forest from the Government for 14,000/., to be paid by 
instalments. He then made a contract for charcoal with 
the Spanish Government, and with the money thence 
received paid his instalments as they fell due, gaining a 
million of francs (40,000/.) on the transaction. His energy 
is to be admired, but he ought never to have been allowed 
to denude the mountains entirely of timber without re- 
planting. My companions assured me that the soil, no longer 
retained in place by the roots of the trees, and protected by 
their leaves, will, all but to a certainty in this climate, be 
carried away by the torrential rains of winter. In that 
case the mountains will become denuded and sterile for 



A SARDINIAN VIRGIN FOREST. 479 

ever, as is the case with so many mountain summits in 
the south, formerly covered with forests, now mere bare 
rocks. 

On leaving the territory of this forest Vandal we entered 
a region where the trees had not as yet felt the axe, and 
soon found ourselves in the midst of the most beautiful 
mountain and forest scenery I have anywhere beheld. The 
principal trees were the Ilex, or evergreen Oak, and they 
were the finest I have seen in the south of Europe. Many 
were as large and as fine, if not larger and finer, than 
any English Oaks I ever met with in a nobleman's park. 
In their efforts to get to the light, from the mountain sides 
and valleys, they had often twisted themselves into the 
most fantastic shapes. In one deep and magnificent gorge 
the luxuriance of vegetation was greater than anything I 
had witnessed before in any land, and recalled to my mind 
the descriptions I have read of virgin tropical forests. The 
wild Vines, Ivies, Clematises, Honeysuckles, Blackberries, 
Sarsaparillas, instead of being simply creepers, had become 
lianes — -ropes ; they ascended into trees forty or fifty feet 
high or more, twining round their stems. It was perfectly 
delightful to me to see our Blackberry quite equal to 
the occasion, and climbing as energetically, as vigorously 
as any, the wild Vines excepted, for I could not but look 
upon him as a countryman, even in a virgin forest in 
Sardinia. Ivy, Myrtle, Cytisus, Ferns, Polypodium vulgare, 
Filix-mas, Asplenium Adiantum-nigrum, crept out of every 
crevice of the limestone rock, and waved their fronds in 
the air, whilst the beautiful purple blossom of the Cyclamen 
covered the ground as Daisies do in the north. These 
valleys must be very moist for many months of the year, 
for the trunks and the branches of many of the trees were 
covered with moss, and in this moss was growing abun- 
dantly Polypodium vulgare. In the centre of this wild 
lovely valley was an abundant brawling stream of pure 
mountain water, leaping over the stones, as in Ross-shire ; 
only the water was not peat stained, for peat and Heather 
were entirely absent. In all parts of this wild valley I 
found growing freely Asplenium Adiantum-nigrum, Pteris 
aquilina, Asplenium Trichomanes, as also a large white 



480 SARDINIA. 

Amaryllis. The Ivy was often so luxuriant in its growth 
that it covered the sides of high cliffs. 

Pala Guttura, where we arrived in due course in time for 
dinner, reproduced Aqua Rese, only under still more 
picturesque and fascinating conditions of mountain scenery. 
The galleries leading to the mine — one of carbonate of 
zinc — are also in the flanks of the mountain, and the direc- 
tor's house is also on a terrace adjoining. I can but com- 
pare it to a shooting lodge in a remote corner of the 
Highlands of Scotland. Within a few yards a very abun- 
dant spring of pure cool water issues from the mountain, 
and rushes down a deep ravine which it has furrowed, in 
the midst of a thicket of verdure which it has created. 
This spring is a great boon to the locality, as good water is 
very scarce over the greater part of Sardinia, owing, no 
doubt, to the porous schistic character of the soil. At this 
mine the sub-director was a handsome young Italian, son 
of a Venetian nobleman. Instead of living in idleness he had 
put his shoulder to the wheel, a good sign for "Italia Unita." 

Whilst at Pala Guttura I learnt that a great part of the 
forest we had crossed in the day had recently been pur- 
chased from the Government by the proprietors of the 
mine, in order to make charcoal for their works. The sum 
paid, six or eight thousand pounds, for many thousand 
acres of forest-covered mountain land, some of which, 
situated in the valley, is arable, seems very small to us. It 
appears that a large portion of Sardinia belonged to the 
" communes" or parishes, and that recently the Govern- 
ment, for the public good, has expropriated them and taken 
possession of the lands, paying a nominal indemnity, 
founded on present value; these properties are being gradu- 
ally brought to market. There are sales every six months, 
and immense tracts are being sold at mere nominal rates. 
The minerals, however, do not go with the soil; the 
Government gives a mining licence to the first person who 
discovers a mine and applies for a licence, with a power to 
expropriate the owner of the land required for the works 
on payment of an indemnity. 

The following morning we returned to Iglesias by another 
route, through a mountain and forest district as beautiful 



SPOUT IN SARDINIA, CAGLIARI. 481 

as the one previously traversed. A very enjoyable picnic 
amongst the rocks on the seashore marked the next day for 
ever with a white stone, and then we departed for Cagliari, 
after taking leave of our worthy host. Thanks to his kind 
reception of us we had an opportunity of seeing the wild 
virgin forest scenery of Sardinia, which could scarcely be 
reached except under such auspices. I saw no villages, no 
habitations wherever we went, and no population except 
that connected with the mines. There are villages, but I 
am told they contain no accommodation of any kind for 
strangers — nothing but the native huts. The lovely high- 
lands of Sardinia may, thus, be considered inaccessible, 
except under some such delightful auspice, to all except 
sportsmen accustomed and ready to sleep in sheds, barns, 
or in the open air. It is said that these mountain forests 
are full of wild boars, of deer, and of game in general. 

I heard of an English nobleman who came to Sardinia 
in a large steam yacht, anchored in the little ports, hunted 
all day, and always came back to his yacht to dine and sleep, 
a most comfortable and satisfactory plan for seeing and 
enjoying the wild beauties and the sport of Sardinia. 

Cagliari is rather a fine city, partly situated on a rock 
300 feet above the sea, not as unhealthy as Oristano, 
although surrounded by ponds or lakes, but they are salt, 
and appear not to produce fever to any extent. Although 
150 miles more south than Sassari, and only 150 miles 
from Africa, I found the vegetation no more tropical, no 
more advanced than at Sassari. A north-west wind was 
blowing all the time I was there, and it was very cool and 
pleasant. I was told that the winds in winter and spring 
generally blow from that direction, that is, down the central 
Sardinian plains from the north, and make the climate cool 
but rather damp. Whilst I was there, from the ] st to the 
3rd of May, the temperature at night was below 60° Fahr., 
and in the day, in the shade, it did not rise above 68°; yet 
the sun was very hot, all but insupportably so. I was told 
that when the wind changed to the south, which it might 
do any day, the heat would be terrific, going up to 100° or 
101° in July and August. 

I carefully examined the public garden, which is below 

I i 



482 SARDINIA. 

the ramparts, in a very sheltered spot, as at Sassari, and 
found it principally planted with hardy or half hardy ever- 
green trees and shrubs, Ilex, Cork Oak, Enonymus japonica, 
Justicia, Box, Magnolia. There were also Schinus Mulli, 
Ailanthus, Populus alba, Cytisus, Acacia, Ficus elastica. 
There were a dozen small Orange trees, two or three feet 
high, in a sheltered corner, surrounded by a hedge of 
Euonymus, and half dead ; the extremities of the branches 
were quite dead. On looking from the ramparts on the 
town, I saw in some courtyards below me, surrounded by 
the houses and by walls fifteen or twenty feet high, some 
Orange trees, which looked very healthy and well. They 
evidently required protection of this kind — to be in a 
species of well — to resist the north winds that course 
through Central Sardinia in winter, even here, in the 
southern part of the Mediterranean, not much more than 
a hundred miles from the coast of Africa. 

Cagliari has all the aspect of a small capital. The town 
ascends from the shore to the upper part of a hill or rock 
three hundred feet high, which is surrounded by strong walls 
built by the Pisans. There is thus an upper, a middle, 
and a lower town. In the upper town there are : a fine 
cathedral, a citadel, a handsome university and museum, 
Government, archiepiscopal, and private palaces, and large, 
fine houses. The view from the citadel is magnificent; to 
the north the Campidani, or plains of Central Sardinia, 
east and west large salt water lakes, beyond them on each 
side fine mountains, to the south the open sea. The women 
are good looking, and Spanish in expression. The gala 
costumes of both men and women of the peasant class are 
picturesque; those of the latter are embroidered with satin 
and gold, and bedecked with jewels. Finally, Cagliari is 
lighted with gas and supplied with pure mountain water 
by an English company, which is paying a good interest to 
its spirited projectors. For more circumstantial details 
respecting Sardinia and the books written thereon, I would 
refer to Murray's Guide. 

My object in making this journey to Sardinia was to 
study its climate, as interpreted by the vegetation in spring, 
and I gained thereby the information of which I was in 
quest. Sardinia cannot be recommended to invalids, or 



WINDS, CLIMATE, VEGETATION. 483 

indeed to any one, as a sheltered winter residence. The 
mountains run principally from north to south, not from 
east to west, and are not very high, so they give but little 
protection from north winds. Indeed, the high plains 
which occupy the centre of Sardinia in the north, and the 
low plains which occupy the centre in the south, with the 
mountain ranges on each side, offer a kind of bed to the 
north-east and north-west winds which course down 
the island, with violence, most of the winter. These winds 
are not only cool but damp, as they have passed over 
a tract of sea sufficiently extensive to moisten them without 
warming them. There may be nooks and corners in the 
island, at the south. base of mountains, with lateral protec- 
tion, east and west, where the winter passes in sunshine 
and shelter ; but they are unknown, and inaccessible even 
if they exist. To tourists, however, when the cold winds 
of winter are over, and before the heats of summer have 
commenced, that is, in the months of April and May, such 
a journey in Sardinia as I took is very enjoyable. They 
must, however, be able to put up with very inferior hotel 
accommodation, and ought to have introductions that will 
take them out of the beaten track, as was my case. Before 
long, when the railroad is completed from Porto Torres to 
Cagliari, the inns will, no doubt, improve, and Sardinia 
may become a high road to the southern Mediterranean. 
Cagliari is only sixteen hours by steamer from Tunis, 
twenty from Naples, and twenty- four from Palermo. 

In conclusion, I would add that a fortnight's careful in- 
vestigation of the vegetation of Sardinia in spring con- 
firmed the convictions formed after the examination and 
study of the other large islands of the Mediterranean — 
Corsica and Sicily. North-east and north-west winds in 
winter, from December to May, retain their full power in 
unprotected localities in the Mediterranean basin, even 
in its southern islands. When mountain protection and 
shelter give the sun fairplay, as at the Orange groves of 
Milis, the temperature is as mild as on the protected north 
Riviera shores, not milder, but the atmosphere is moister 
from insular position. 

I embarked at Cagliari on the 3rd of May for Tunis, 
on my way to the island of Malta. 

I I 2 



CHAPTER XIV. 

MALTA. 

THE VOYAGE PROM TUNIS— MALTA — PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY— VALETTA— 
VEGETATION— THE INT ERIOR-— CULTIVATION — 'THE ST. ANTONIO GAR- 
DENS — WINDS— RAINFALL. 

After visiting Tunis, Carthage, and their vicinity, I 
wished to proceed to Malta. The only regular communi- 
cation between Tunis and Malta is by a little screw 
steamer — -the Lancefield, a mere small steam yacht, which 
rolls fearfully, but is swift and safe. It plies weekly 
between each destination, but on this occasion its usual 
arrival at and departure from Tunis was delayed. I had 
been nearly a week there, had minutely examined the 
town and the neighbouring country, and the hotel accom- 
modation was very bad. Moreover, there was absolutely 
nothing to do, for I had not leisure to examine the interior. 
I became therefore very anxious to get away, and through 
the kindness of the vice-consul, secured a passage to 
Malta in a large merchant ship, which had called at Tunis 
to unload cargo on its way to Alexandria. The vessel, a 
steamer, had eighty tons of gunpowder on board for the 
garrison at Malta, but I was too anxious to depart to be 
influenced by such a minor consideration ! On this fine 
ship, heavily laden, going at six or seven miles an hour 
only, with a strong north-west or west wind, we had 
a beautiful passage. Although the wind was howling, the 
sky grey, and the sea rough, we moved along, wind behind 
us, as steadily as a church, could eat and drink and be 
merry, and arrived at Malta May 9 after thirty-four hours' 
navigation. On this voyage I was again much struck by 
the difference between steaming in a large ship and in a 
small one. At present in the Mediterranean everything is 
sacrificed to speed ; so the ordinary passenger steamers, all 



VALETTA AND ITS VEGETATION. 485 

screws, are made very long and very narrow, drawing very 
little water. They are like cigars, and roll fearfully if the 
sea is in the slightest degree agitated, when a larger and 
steadier vessel would scarcely feel it. This makes seafaring 
more trying in the Mediterranean than it used to be in the 
days of broad paddle-wheel steamers. 

Malta is a calcareous rocky island, which rises a few 
hundred feet only above the sea, and is situated in latitude 
35° ; it is fifty-eight miles from the nearest point of Sicily, 
one hundred and seventy-nine from the nearest coast-line 
of Africa, forty-four miles in circumference, seventeen miles 
in greatest length north to south, nine miles in greatest 
width east to west. A slight rocky elevation or ridge, 
from north to south, separates the island into two unequal 
portions, the eastern being the more extensive and the 
more populous. The surface is undulating and uneven, 
although the general character of the island is that of a 
'plain, nowhere rising more than six hundred, feet above the 
sea. 

In the town of Valetta, overlooking the magnificent 
harbour, there is but little vegetation ; still there are some 
squares planted, and a small straggling garden on the 
ramparts. Moreover, wild plants grow here and there in 
nooks and corners. The vegetation appeared to me iden- 
tically the same as in other parts of the Mediterranean 
— at Athens or Sardinia, at Corfu, Tunis, or Smyrna, and 
the stage of growth the same as in these and other similar 
regions at this epoch of the spring (the second week in 
May). My explorations commenced on the 10th. 

In the rampart garden I found Ailanthus coming into 
leaf, S chirms Mulli in flower, Oleander in bud, large 
Mallow in flower, Euonymus japonica in flower, Pome- 
granate in leaf, Carouba trees, Sida arborea, Sparmannia 
Africana, Buddleia Madagascariensis in flower ; Roses, 
hybrid, Banksia, multifiora, in flower; Justicia arborea, 
Nasturtium. Stock, Petunia, Verbena, Marigold, Pelargo- 
nium, Larkspur, Virginian Stock, in flower; Hollyhock, first 
flower opening; Fig in full leaf, fruit swelling ; Opuntia, 
and Aloe. Nearly all these had been flowering in my 
garden at Mentone ever since February or March. 



486 MALTA. 

In the garden of the Governor's town palace, sur- 
rounded on all sides by buildings, a mere planted court- 
yard in the interior of the town, were many of these 
plants and flowers. In addition I noticed a magnificent 
Araucaria excelsa at least fifty feet high, planted in 1858 
by Prince Alfred, and then only seven feet in height. The 
walls were covered with a Bougainvillea in full bloom, a 
beautiful sight. The vigour and luxuriance of this plant 
showed that the calcareous soil and the climate of Malta 
suit it thoroughly. There was also Jasminum revolutum, 
Bignonia Capensis in flower, Fuchsia not in flower, Oranges 
just set, Loquats ripening, Casuarina flourishing, Cereus 
grandiflora the same. 

The following day I took a leisurely drive to Citta 
Vecchia, the former capital, six miles from Valetta, nearly 
in the centre of the island, on one of the highest points of 
the central ridge. On a subsequent occasion I drove right 
through the island to St. Paul's Bay, at the south- 
western extremity, carefully examining the aspect of the 
country and the vegetation all the way. Seen from a 
height, as for instance from the heights of Citta Vec- 
chia, the island of Malta looks barren, and thence, no 
doubt, it has been described as a barren rock. The most 
cursory inspection, however, shows that this is a gross 
error, and that the accounts of soil having been trans- 
ported from the continent are totally devoid of foundatioo. 
The error, no doubt, originates in the fact that the entire 
island is divided into fields of a few acres each, as in 
England, that these fields are bounded by stone walls 
four or five feet high, and that scarcely any trees higher 
than the walls are to be seen. Higher trees exist, but 
they are hidden in gardens surrounded by walls fifteen, 
twenty, or twenty-five feet high. Thus an observer may 
pass through the island, and under the very walls of these 
gardens, without seeing a shrub or a tree therein contained. 
It is the winds that course over the low sea-girt island 
from every point of the compass, that necessitate this 
extraordinary amount of shelter. No trees except the 
pyramidal Cypress, and scarcely that wind-proof Conifer, 
appear able to resist their influence,, and to grow without 
the protection of walls or of surrounding buildings. 



THE INTERIOR AND ITS VEGETATION. 487 

If. as we pass along the road, we look over the stone 
walls, we at once perceive that every enclosure contains soil 
cultivated with extreme care, and producing crops abundant 
although meagre and low in habit. I observed principally 
bearded Wheat and Barley turning colour, Potatoes, Vetches, 
Clover, and Beans. The value of manure is clearly appre- 
ciated, for many fields had been ploughed and were covered 
with heaps of manure about to be dug in. I was told that the 
second summer crop is Cotton, which is extensively planted. 
In all these fields there was not a weed to be seen, they 
were as clear as a gentleman's garden in England just after 
it has been trimmed. 

It is said that more than two-thirds of the island is under 
cultivation, the rest being rock, where it rises to # the surface 
in ridges and elevations, but that the area of cultivation is 
gradually being extended. I'» noticed in several places the 
process of formation of new fields, and found that it is very 
much the same as what I am doing among my Grimaldi 
rocks at Mentone. Calcareous rocks are always full of 
fissures, cracks, and crevices, in which, in the Mediterranean 
climate, Thyme, Rosemary, and grasses grow. In the 
course of centuries their decay forms earth, which collects 
in greater or less quantity according to the size of the crack 
or crevice. When these rocks are broken or blasted the 
earth is found, and forms a very good soil. The broken 
rocks serve for supporting or boundary walls, the earth is 
spread on the ground to form the new terrace or field, with 
whatever addition can be found, and with the smaller 
stones. The latter disintegrate in time, manure is added, 
and vegetation begins. 

Inside villages, inside courtyards, in spots two-thirds or 
three-quarters surrounded by houses or outbuildings, under 
the brow of rocks or ridges running from east to west, at 
the bottom of now dry ravines and watercourses — wherever, 
in a word, there was shelter from wind, and especially from 
north, north-east, or north-west wind, I found sparse, 
small, stunted specimens ,of the familiar vegetation of the 
Mediterranean : Pinus maritima and Halepensis, Cupressus 
pyramidalis and macrocarpa, Ailanthus glandulosa, Populus 
alba, Phytolacca dioica, popularly called Belombrosa in 



488 MALTA. 

Italy, most frequently small Fig trees, Schinus Mulli, 
Lentiscus, Carouba, Daisy, a small Euphorbia, a Mallow, 
Conium, the yellow Chrysanthemum segetum, a variegated 
Thistle, and a species of Silene. All, however, were small, 
as if stunted in growth from want of food, and all seemed 
to be looking for shelter from the wind. 

Through the kindness of a friend of former days, Dr. 
Innes, whom I found at the head of the forces at Malta, 
1 was introduced to the Governor, Sir Charles Straubenzee. 
Sir Charles most courteously asked me to see his gardens 
at St. Antonio, the Governor's summer palace, and I 
examined them minutely with very deep interest. 

I had passed through the village of St. Antonio the day 
before without even suspecting that it contained an ex- 
tensive garden in connexion with this summer palace. 
The only external trace of fe garden was a row of tall 
pyramidal Cypress trees. Once inside the cause was re- 
vealed ; where not bounded by the buildings of the palace 
it was surrounded by a wall at least twenty-five feet high. 
Inside it seemed as if a magician/ s wand had transported 
me to another country, to a real garden of Eden. All the 
flowers named in this and former chapters as flourishing in 
winter and spring in the Mediterranean region were there, 
growing and blooming with extreme luxuriance, indeed 
with greater luxuriance than I had seen anywhere before, 
not even excepting Malaga, the sheltered valleys of Corfu 
or the Genoese Riviera, although I was told by Sir Charles 
that the soil was neither good nor deep. 

There was a large tree of Erythrina coralloides, larger 
than those I saw at Malaga, the only region of the Medi- 
terranean where I have seen them as timber trees ; a Ficus 
elastica, also a timber tree, rising at least fifty feet, as high 
as the house. Both these trees Sir Charles told me re- 
minded him of China and the East, as they were as large 
as those usually met with there. A Bougainvillea covered 
one side of the house with its deep scarlet bloom. The 
intensity of the light and sun in tbe Mediterranean appears 
to give the flowers this deep scarlet hue. I at first thought 
it was a different species, until, flowering one in a glass- 
house at Mentone, 1 found that the bracts growing rather 



THE GOVERNOR'S GARDEN AT ST. ANTONIO. 489 

in the shade had the hue of our Bougainvillea spectabilis, 
whereas the bracts of the same plant immediately under- 
neath the glass had the usual deep scarlet hue — as deep as 
that of the blossom of the Verbena imperialis. Marechal 
Niel and Safrano were in full bloom, as were many 
hybrid Roses, Bengal, Banksia, and multiflora, in large 
bushes and flowering in masses; Euphorbia splendens and 
Russellia juncea occurred as bushes covered with flower. 
There were also several large plants of Cycas revoluta, 
Bignonia jasminoides, Capensis, capreolata, and Ficus stipu- 
late or repens, covering large walls. Sparmannia Africana, 
Justicia • arborea, Habrothamnus elegans, Abutilon Mala- 
koff, Yinca major, Lonicera flexuosa japonica in flower, Ivy 
very luxuriant; Astrapsea Wallichii, with large showy 
flowers ; Cephalotaxus Fortunei, large healthy plant ; 
Cestrum cauliflorum and nocturnum, also good ; Hibiscus, 
Althsea, Melianthus major, Iochroma tubulosa were among 
the plants most conspicuous here. Among trees there were 
Paulownia and Melia Azedarach in flower, immense and 
most beautiful. One magnificent tree more especially 
struck my attention ; it was labelled Prosopis flexuosa. 
This tree was at first glance like the Carouba, but it was 
larger, more majestic, with finer leaves. I have never seen 
it before, unless it be the same as the Prosopis Siliquastrum 
met with at Madrid. 

In a separate garden or orchard were hundreds of bushy 
Orange trees, with boles one or two feet in diameter, 
about fifteen feet high, and loaded with fruit. There was 
a grove of Loquats, with the fruit ripe • and sweeter and 
better than I had ever tasted before. This orchard was 
protected by walls, like the garden, and abundantly sup- 
plied with water — irrigated every ten days, I was told , all 
summer. It appears that there are in Malta many gardens 
and orchards like these shut up within high walls, and that 
it is in these the Orange trees are grown. Previous to this 
information I had wondered from whence the Oranges for 
which Malta is so celebrated came. I had perambulated 
the island in every direction, and the only Orange trees I 
had seen was a group of sickly representatives of the 
species in a square near the Cathedral at Yaletta. 



490 MALTA. 

The above facts give the key to the climate and vege- 
tation of Malta. In winter and spring it is ravaged by- 
north winds, which blow over it from every northern point 
of the compass, just as they blow over the small islands of 
the Grecian Archipelago. From its lowness, and the 
absence of mountain ridges running east and west, and 
giving protection at their southern base, it offers no shelter 
to vegetation but that which man constructs. Thus, the 
tree vegetation can no more hold its own than in one of 
our northern Hebrides, and it is, consequently, all but 
absent. These winds, cool and moist when from the north, 
check vegetation in winter in all exposed situations, 
although the night temperature is higher than on the 
northern shores of the Mediterranean. Owing to this 
fact, the general unprotected flora gives no evidence of a 
more southern climate; at the same time, the summer heat 
being much greater, if artificial protection be given, as at 
the iSt. Antonio gardens, the subtropical vegetation of the 
more sheltered regions of the Mediterranean flourishes with 
extreme and unusual luxuriance. Perhaps the moister 
island atmosphere of Malta also tends to encourage vege- 
tation in sheltered spots. 

The rains in winter are frequent and abundant, especially 
in December, January, and February — a fact which implies 
that they come with north-east and north-west winds, as 
those winds predominate in mid-winter in the Medi- 
terranean, and although dry on the continent become 
moist in crossing the sea. In summer it scarcely rains at 
all, so that, as there are no rivers, and not many springs, 
the rain has to be stored in tanks for summer use. Dew, 
however, is said to fall heavily in summer, and to supply 
the place of the rain, which means that the air is very 
moist even in the greatest heat of summer. This is always 
the case in islands, as the wind must come over water 
— sea or lake — whichever way it blows, and has thus 
imbibed moisture. There are great storage works for 
water all over Valetta, and indeed all over the island. In 
the vicinity of Valetta I saw an army of workmen appa- 
rently disembowelling a street. They had made an 
immense excavation, occupying its entire length and 





Min. 


January 


. 507 


February . 


. 52" 


March . . 


. 53- 


April . . . 


. 56- 


May . . . 


. 62- 


Jane . . . 


. 73- 





Min. 


Max. 


July . . . 


. 74- 


76- 


August . 


. 76- 


77' 


September . 


. 71" 


73* 


October . . 


. 66- 


70- 


November 


. 59- 


63" 


December 


. 55- 


60- 



CLIMATE, WINDS, RAIN. 491 

breadth, and I was told that it was merely one of these 
tanks in process of formation. 

According to Dr. Davey, quoted by Dr. Scoresby Jackson, 
the maximum and minimum for 1833 at Valetta were : — 

Max. 

54-6 

57- 

58- 

61- 

68- 

73- 

The principal fact conveyed by these figures is the one 
already noticed : the greater warmth of the nights in 
winter as compared with the night temperature on the 
north shore of the Mediterranean. The difference in winter 
at Malta appears to be seldom more than five or six degrees, 
whereas at Mentone it is usually from eight to ten, 
and on the Upper Nile, in latitude 22° to 25°, according to 
Dr. Dalrymple, it is from twenty to thirty ! This latter 
fact shows the great difference between continental and 
insular, or maritime regions. In the summer, as in the 
[Mediterranean basin generally, the difference between night 
minimum and day maximum is only one or two degrees. 

I was about a week at Malta, and, after a minute survey 
of the island, and of its vegetation, came to the conclusion 
that it presented none of the conditions of shelter and 
protection from north winds that I am in the habit of 
considering essential to a winter sanitorium in the Medi- 
terranean. Moreover Valetta, where all strangers reside, 
is a large town, with a large garrison, and presents all the 
usual diseases, zymotic and other of large towns. Fever 
of a low typhoid form is common. Such being the case, 
notwithstanding the great social advantages it presents, 
its English comforts and appliances of every kind, I cannot 
place Malta in the list of resorts for real and serious 
invalidism. For those who are only ailing, without being 
really ill, like Corfu, it may prove a pleasant change, 
beneficial to the mind and to the general health. 

I have described Malta without alluding to the Knights 
of St. John. To do so is all but sacrilege, for their memory 
pervades every foot of ground ; but want of space must be 
my excuse. 



PART III. 

THE SOUTH SHORES OF THE MEDITERRANEAN. 



CHAPTER XV. 

ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 

ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. — THE SEA. VOYAGE — ALGIERS — THE EXPERI- 
MENTAL GARDEN THE TRAPPIST MONASTERY — • EABYLIA — PORT 

NAPOLEON BLIDAH — THE CHIPPA GORGE — MILIANAH TENIET-EL- 

HAD — THE CEDAR POREST — THE DESERT — THE VALLEY OP THE 
CHELIPP — ORLEANSVILLE — ORAfl — DEPARTURE. 

" From Greenland's icy mountains, 

From India's coral strand, 
Where Afric's sunny fountains 

Roll down their golden sand : 
From many an ancient river, 

From many a Palmy plain, 
They call us to deliver 

Their land from Error's chain." Bishop Heber. 

Ox the afternoon of April the 13th, 1.869, 1 left Marseilles, 
at five o'clock, on board a fine screw steamer belonging to 
the Messageries Imperiales, bound for Algiers. The 
weather was very fine, the sun shining intensely in a clear 
blue sky, a light wind blowing from the land, the barometer 
high, and the sea calm. We glided gently out of La Joliette 
harbour, and past the Chateau d'Iff, with all the passengers 
on deck, as if intent on a pleasure excursion. Many were 
looking sadly on the land gradually receding, thinking of 
dear ones left behind, whilst others seemed to scan the 
horizon joyously; their thoughts were evidently occupied 
by the anticipation of happy meetings. So it is in life; we 
are ever parting, ever meeting, sorrowful or joyous, until 
at last we part to meet no more on this side of the grave. 

The evening was a pleasant one to all, or nearly all ; long 
before nightfall we were out of sight of land, and we watched 
the sun &o down into his waterv couch on the western 



MAJORCA AND MINORCA — SEA-SICKNESS. 493 

horizon in great glory. Then we retired to our comfortable 
cabins, and most of us found, in balmy sleep, oblivion of 
the capricious sea that bore us on her bosom. The next 
morning there was very perceptible motion, dressing was 
troublesome, and on going on deck I found that the sea 
had become rather frolicsome, the ship rather lively, and 
that the sky was covered with lead-coloured, water-laden 
clouds hurrying up in serried battalions from the south- 
west to fight the sunny north-east breeze that had wafted 
us so far. About midday we reached the friendly shelter of 
Majorca, and passed between that island and Minorca. 
Majorca we did not even see, but we skirted the shores of 
Minorca for a couple of hours, near enough to scan the 
features of the country, and to examine, from afar, several 
villages and towns. The shore appeared to be bounded 
by high cliffs, precipitous in some places, and the land- 
scape was all but entirely denuded of trees, as is the case 
with the mother country, Spain. When we advanced 
beyond the shelter which the large island of Majorca affords 
from the south-west we got into a regular gale, with a very 
heavy sea. Our vessel commenced to plunge and roll fear- 
fully, at one and the same time, and I succumbed, as did 
nineteen-twentieths of my companions. We took to our 
beds forthwith, and remained in the usual agonies of sea- 
sickness until our arrival at Algiers the next olay. I subse- 
quently learnt that during about eight months of the year — 
from September to May — the passage between Marseilles 
and Algeria is generally of this character. Even when fine 
in the north part of the Mediterranean, there is generally a 
gale and a heavy sea in the south ; and if fine on the African 
shores, there is generally a gale in the Gulf of Lyons. 

Whilst enduring all the misery of sea-sickness I tried to 
analyse my own sensations, and to find why it was that I 
was suffering. The most approved theory is that sea-sick- 
ness is a nervous affection, connected with the brain, and 
with the ever-changing position of surrounding objects, 
relatively to the body and vision. I feel convinced, how- 
ever, that such is not the sole cause, from my own personal 
experience. I have no fear whatever of the sea. Unless 
actually ill, I delight in being on it, however rough, in any 



L'ALCERIE (ALGERIA) 




jravcjvu- Krliav<l,i2,v.IHi,£uay Trouin Pari: 



Paris Imp Monrocq 



494 ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 

way — swimming, in a boat, a steamer, a yacht, or a sailing 
Vessel. If not very rough, I am quite happy and well, and 
can eat ravenously. Yet sometimes, when the motion is 
very great, especially when it is a cross motion, such as a 
combination of plunging and deep rolling, as on this occa- 
sion, I become desperately ill, throwing up huge quantities 
of bile. What has the nervous system, or change of posi- 
tion, to do with such sickness in one who, like myself, on 
land feels no inconvenience whatever from any kind of 
motion or gyration? Whilst lying on my back in the 
cabin, crossways to the ship, which rolled until twenty 
times in the minute the port-hole window was many feet 
beneath the sea, I watched the water in the decanters and 
basins. As we rolled the water rolled too, swashing violently 
from side to side, and I felt that my internal economy was 
doing the same. At one moment all the moveable contents 
of the body, liquid and solid, were thrown one way, to- 
wards the feet, as it were ; the next they were thrown with 
violence upwards and on the diaphragm, on the liver. This 
latter organ is so imprisoned under the ribs, so bound that 
it cannot get out of the way. Tickled, pounded in this 
manner, it gets angry, excited, stimulated, pours out bile 
into the intestines and stomach, which ought never to 
receive it, except during the process of digestion, and this 
occasions sickness and vomiting. This mechanical theory 
would explain the real efficacy of purgatives taken a day or 
two before starting, which clear the liver of bile, of a ban- 
dage, which protects it from being thus pounded, of habit, 
of opiates, and of nerve stimulants, such as tea, coffee, wine, 
spirits, which deaden its susceptibility, and induce it to bear 
insult and actual blows without resentment. The distur- 
bance of the circulation must also be considered. 

1 believe that I have really discovered the means of 
avoiding sea- sickness entirely in many cases, not in all, in 
short passages, and of preparing for long passages. The 
stomach should be absolutely empty before going on board, 
but to avoid exhaustion a good meal should be taken three, 
four, or five hours before, according to the nature of the 
food. Meat requires four, in some five, hours for complete 
digestion. Then, one or two hours before embarking, some 
very strong coffee, tea, or spirits and water, should be taken, 



PREVENTION OF SEA-SICKNESS — ALGIERS. 495 

without milk or other food. This is to tonify the nervous 
system, and yet to secure emptiness of the stomach, fluids 
being usually absorbed in less than an hour. Once on 
board, repose should be enjoined, the recumbent position 
is best, and nothing whatever, solid or fluid, should betaken 
for twelve hours or more, even then very little. On this 
system food and'the medicinal stimulant are taken before the 
stomach is exposed to sympathetic irritation, and the general 
economy and the nervous system are thereby invigorated. 
As there is nothing left in the stomach, or given to it to 
digest, it remains quiescent under difficulty. The reason 
that medicines given in sickness do no good is that they 
are not absorbed. Once even nausea commences the stomach 
refuses to absorb liquids or to digest solids, and the more 
there is in it the worse it behaves. The best stimulant in 
my experience is very strong black coffee. Scores and 
scores of my friends and patients have escaped sea-sickness 
in short passages by observing these rules, and have 
diminished suffering in longer ones. 

About nine o'clock the second morning the martyrs 
downstairs were apprised that Mount Atlas was in view. 
The temptation was too strong to be withstood, so I crawled 
up, more dead than alive, to get the first look of " Afric's 
sunny mountains." But I was amply rewarded for the 
effort. Far off on the southern horizon a noble range of 
mountains loomed on the sky, half clothed in dense clouds. 
It was Mount Atlas, the Father of Geography, the son of 
Jupiter and Clymene, the renowned upholder of the world 
of the ancients. There was nothing southern, however, 
about the scene. Rain was gently falling, the heavens 
were covered with dense black clouds, the wind whistled 
among the rigging, and the steamer madly careered in half 
a dozen ways at once. We might have been outside the 
Isle of Skye, in view of the Ouchullin mountains, robed in 
dense black cloud. At midday we entered the port of 
Algiers, having steamed four hundred miles in forty-three 
hours, which is considered a very good passage. 

The port of Algiers is commodious and good, formed by 
two jetties, the one western, the other eastern, both con- 
structed in former days by Christian slaves, and extended 
and perfected by the French. For centuries thousands of 



496 ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 

Europeans have pined away their lives under Africa's burn- 
ing sun to build the works that protect this port. How 
many an aching heart has entered, as we were doing, their 
eyes riveted on this southern coast, destined merely to add 
a few stones to these piers, and then to sicken and die 
under the lash of slavery, far away from family, from home, 
from country. 

I was fortunate enough to find accommodation at the 
Hotel d'Orient — the best, indeed I believe the only good 
hotel at Algiers — where I met with all the comforts and 
elegances of Paris or London. Time being precious, I at 
once commenced my local studies according to a plan 
previously arranged. This plan comprised : — 

1. The survey of Algiers and of its vicinity. 

2. A journey to Fort Napoleon, a military station built 
in the centre of the mountains of recently-subdued Kabylia, 
to overawe the mountaineers. 

3. An excursion due south, by Blidah and Milianah, to 
the desert of Sahara, and to the great Cedar forest at 
Teniet-el-Had. 

4. A journey along the valley of the Cheliff, from 
Milianah to Orleansville and Oran. 

This plan was carried out, and I shall follow it in 
describing my Algerine experiences. 

THE CITY OF ALGIERS AND ITS VICINITY. 

Most of the views of Algiers that I have seen are mere 
artistic sketches, and give a very poetical, but very erroneous 
idea of the Moorish city. The photograph here reproduced 
is strictly true to nature. 

Algiers, situated in latitude 36° 8', occupies the western 
extremity, or horn, of a fine bay ten miles in circuit, on 
the south shore of the Mediterranean, the northern shore 
of the continent of Africa, and looks directly northwards. 
The bay is formed by a range of low hills, the Sahel, 
which follow the western portion of its circuit, expiring at 
its eastern extremity, but continuing their course along 
the seashore for many miles to the west of Algiers, beyond 
the western extremity of the bay. Seen from the sea, 



ALGIERS FROM THE SEA. 497 

Algiers looks like a white triangular sheet, with its base 
on the shore, its vertex on the summit of the hill. The 
milky whiteness of the town is owing to the houses having 
flat roofs, which do not appear, and to their walls being- 
whitewashed. 

In the centre of the bay, to the east of Algiers, the villas 
of Mustapha Superior and Inferior, the health and pleasure 
suburbs of Algiers, climb up the slopes of the Sahel, whilst, 
at the eastern angle, the expiring and receding Sahel allows 
the far off summits of the Jurjura mountains to appear 
on the horizon. These mountains, which constitute the 





m 








CITY OF ALGIERS FROM THE TORT. 



eastern extremity of the first chain of the Atlas, rise to 
a height of seven thousand feet, are covered with snow in 
winter, and although sixty miles distant, are generally in 
view from Algiers, lending enchantment to the eastern 
horizon. 

On the land side of the port, at the base of the town, is 
a line quay, bounded by a series of stone arcades which 
contain warehouses and support a noble terrace or bou- 
levard (see woodcut), on which, fronting the sea, are 
built the Government House, the Bank, the Hotel d'Orient, 



K K 



498 ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 

and other public and private buildings. This quay and 
promenade terrace were built by Sir S. M. Peto. Behind 
spreads the town, rising .gradually to the Kasbah or Dey's 
palace, which crowns the whole. The lower part, that in 
contact with the promenade, the port, and the sea, is occu- 
pied by a Parisian-like square, the Place du Gouvernement, 
planted in parts with Palms and Bamboos (see woodcut), 
by French streets with arcades, like the Rue de Rivoli, and 
by French many-storied, many- windowed houses. Boom was 
made for these modern buildings by the destruction of a 
part of the old city. Above modern Algiers is the remainder 
of the old town, still one mass of oriental streets and 
dwellings, a southern human hive, still exclusively inhabited 
by true Algerines. 

Although we came into port with a strong north- 
westerly breeze and a raging sea (April 15th), we found 
lovely weather on land. The air was pleasantly warm, 
the sun gloriously bright, its ardour tempered by a slight 
white haze in the sky. The distant Jurjura mountains, 
snow and cloud-capped, glistened on the eastern horizon, 
and the ancient pirate city lay before us in all its strange- 
ness, formerly a whitened sepulchre, now a stronghold of 
a civilized and Christian nation. After a bath, a little 
refreshment in the elegant, cool dining-room of the Hotel 
d'Orient, the first for two days and nights, and the enjoy- 
ment of a few hours of land i: equilibrium/'' my thoughts 
turned to the country I had come to see. I therefore 
secured the services of Mahmoud, the intelligent Arab in- 
terpreter of the hotel, and sallied forth. 

The first glance at the motley assemblage that crowded 
the Place du Gouvernement revealed a southern land, Africa. 
On all sides were Arabs and Kabyle mountaineers, Negroes 
and Jews in oriental costume, mingled with Europeans, 
soldiers and civilians. 

One of the strangest costumes was that of the Arab 
women. The face half- veiled with the yashmak, so that the 
eyes only appeared, wrapped in white, they seemed walk- 
ing bundles of muslin or shrouded ghosts. All the 
men, except the Jews, wore woollen bournous, or cloaks, 
like the opera cloaks of European ladies, with the hood 



VEILED ARAB WOMAN. 



499 



generally drawn over the head. Some had on two or even 
three of these bournous, one over the other, in various 
degrees of vetusty and dilapidation. The lower-class 
Arabs, Kabyles, and Negroes, never take them off, day or 
night, merely adding a second or third when the first or 
the second is too old and ragged to keep out the rain and 
the cold. Thus they become in time mere bundles of 
filthy rags of the most grotesque character, of which the 



only 



a faint idea. Some of the old 




VEILED ARAB WOMAN. 



beggars and artisans evidently bear on their backs the 
remains of the wardrobe of their fathers, and of their own 
early youth. These rags are tied and sewn together in 
every conceivable manner ; indeed, it is only a wonder that 
they hold together. 

Many of the town Arabs wear a shirt or a linen tunic, 
fastened at the waist by a girdle, under the bournous, but 
country Arabs, the Kabyles, and Negroes, seem generally 

kk2 



500 



ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 



to wear the woollen bournous only, with or without a 
woollen tunic inside. The Arabs mostly have small turbans, 
but with the Kabyles the hair is bound by a rope fillet 
which encircles the head. Both races generally have rope 
sandals on the feet. 




OLD ARAB MENDICANT. 



The Negroes are numerous, and very characteristic of 
an African land. They are of all ages, from frisky, merry 
little children to decrepit old men, whose skins become 
powdery, of a greyish white, with age. They are the 
labourers of the town, the carriers of burdens, the working 
pariahs. Most of them come from far-off Timbuctoo, 
from the southern regions of the desert of Sahara. They 
have crossed its sandy plains by a four or five months' 
journey, in order to reach Algeria, and will probably never 



JEWS — ARABS. 



501 



see their native country again. Some have been born in 
the country, and know no other, they are true Algerines.^ 

The Jews are also numerous at Algiers. They are said 
to be principally descended from the Jews of Spain, who 
when expelled in the sixteenth century took refuge in the 
Moorish or Barberesque states of Northern Africa. During 
the dominion of the Turks, although they were constantly 
persecuted and ill used, their industry and talent for busi- 




OLD NEGRO MUSICIANS. 



ness enabled them to make themselves indispensable and 
to hold their own. Since the occupation of the French, 
thanks to the complete equality and freedom which the 
French laws accord, they have greatly increased in pros- 
perity, and are said now to own the greater part of the 
real property of Algiers, and of the Algerine towns. They 
are the tradespeople, the men of business, the financiers of 



502 



ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 



the towns, and with their semi-Turkish garb, and their 
strongly-marked Jewish features, form a striking element 
in the population. 

The Arabs are a dark-skinned, dark-haired, dark-eyed 
race. They are numerous, and represent the town de- 
scendants of the Arabian conquerors of former days. The 
nomadic Arabs who inhabit the plains and some of the 
mountains of Algeria, and the Arab tribes of the desert of 
Sahara, merely come- to Algiers for business or pleasure. 




ARAB GIRL. 



Some of the best native families in the city are of this 
descent. The Arab sheiks, chiefs of tribes, are often very 
fine men with a commanding presence, and some of their 
women are said to be very beautiful. The Arab girl, 
whose portrait is reproduced, may be considered typical. 
She clearly belongs to the higher class of Arab society. 



KAB YLES — TURKS. 503 

The Arabs dress in the bournous, but the better classes 
have handsome tunics underneath, with stockings and 
ornamental sandals or shoes. 

The Kabyles are the inhabitants of the Jurjura moun- 
tains or Eastern Atlas, seen from Algiers. They are hardy 
mountaineers, fond of fighting, and had maintained their 
independence throughout the various occupations of Algeria 
by successive races. They have only recently been subdued 
by the French, and are merely retained in subjection by 
force of arms. They are a hard-working, as well as a 
hard-fighting race, and many of them now come to Algiers 
to work and gain money as labourers, or in any capacity. 
Some are dark-skinned, whilst others are quite fair. They 
are evidently a mixed race descended from waves of human 
beings driven from the plains to the mountains by each 
successive invasion of the northern shores of Africa by 
Romans, Vandals, Arabs, and Turks. Their withdrawal to 
the fastnesses of Mount Atlas reproduces in Africa the 
history of the Celts in Europe, that of the Corsicans in 
Corsica. Like all these mountain races the Kabyles have 
preserved a spirit of all but indomitable independence, and 
they resisted the authority of the French in the defence of 
their much-valued liberty until within the last few years. 

Formerly, when Algiers was a nest of pirates, the Turks 
formed no doubt the prominent feature, for they were the 
dominant race. But they have all departed, and their 
city £ knows them no more." They could not brook the 
presence of the abhorred Giaours where they had been 
lords and masters ; so they abandoned Algiers and settled 
in Tunis, Syria, and Constantinople, far from the scene of 
their own and their fathers" misdeeds. 

In the French part of Algiers these various races of 
mankind are mingled in picturesque confusion with 
Europeans — French, Spaniards, Maltese. But once the 
modern part of the town is abandoned, and the steep 
narrow streets of old Algiers are entered, the native races 
reign supreme, and are alone met. These streets are very 
singular, only from six to ten feet wide; they just aliow 
room for a loaded donkey or mule to pass a pedestrian, and 
no more. The houses have no windows, merely a blank 



504 



ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 



wall to the street, unless there be an open shop, without 
windows, at the basement. Each house has a small closed 
door, which leads into a passage or room abutting on a 
square central courtyard or garden. All the windows in 
the house look on this central court, there are none in 
the outer walls, so that the sun never impinges on a 
window. These houses are only two stories high, with flat 




SlltETiT AT Ai-GILltS. 



roofs, and in summer an awning is spread over the central 
court from the roof; thus there is shade and freshness 
everywhere. This, the oriental style of house, is adopted 
all over southern Spain— at Cordova, Valencia, Seville, and 
is much more adapted to a burning southern summer than 
the Parisian houses of many stories, all window, often 
directed full south, which the French are building all over 



CAFE MAURE — JEW COFFEE-SELLER. 



505 



Algeria. There are often beams projecting above head 
from house to house in these narrow streets, and wooden 
buttresses from one storey to another, or from the street to 
the side of the houses, propping them up, owing, no doubt, 
to the walls giving way from old age. Sometimes the 
houses communicate overhead, and the street passes under 
them, under a kind of arcade (see woodcut). 

In the open shops on each side sit Arab, Jewish, or 
Negro tradesmen or merchants, cross-legged, smoking 
their pipes and waiting for customers. In these various 




JEW COFFEE- SELLER. 



shops is sold every conceivable kind of merchandize, the 
higher grade shops being kept by the Arabs and Jews, the 
lower, for eatables especially, by most fantastic negroes, 
men and women, young or old. A prominent feature in 
these old Moorish streets or lanes is the coffee-house or 
" cafe Maure." Mussulmans not being allowed by their 
religion to take spirituous drinks, seem to satisfy the 



506 ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 

craving for nerve stimulants which characterizes civilized 
humanity by constantly imbibing coffee. These coffee 
shops are found every few doors, and address themselves to 
every variety of customer. Thus there are cafes for the 
Arabs, the Kabyles, the Jews, the Negroes, indeed for 
every nationality and for every grade of customers. The 
cafe is a mere room, entered from the street by a wide 
open door or portal. Around the inside is a low divan, on 
which the coffee takers sit, generally cross-legged, drinking 
their coffee and smoking either tobacco or the " haisch," a 
compound of Indian hemp and other substances, which is 
intended to plunge them into delicious dreams. At the 
extremity of the room or shop is the charcoal furnace on 
which the coffee is made. The latter is generally served 
with the dregs in tiny cups, holding about a wineglassful, 
for which one sou is charged. I several times partook of 
this coffee, but am not prepared to pass any great encomium 
upon it, rather the reverse. 

The " cafe Maure " is evidently a lounge, a club, a place 
of reunion for the natives. In the evening: these cotiee- 
houses are always crammed, and I frequently heard 
monotonous chants proceeding from them. One evening 
our guide, Mahmoud, a most obliging man, took us to a 
Kabyle "cafe" renowned for its cultivation of the muses, 
and especially of Terpsichore. The cafe was so full of 
Kabyles that we had some trouble to obtain seats, and 
the only space left was a passage about five feet wide 
between the divans. The musicians were two in -number, 
one played on a tambourine, the other a species of 
flageolet, the music being a monotonous and not unhar- 
monious drone. The dancers were volunteers from the 
audience — firstly, a young man of twenty, then an elderly 
man of fifty. Both danced in the same singular way, 
not so much by moving their feet, as by attitudinizing, 
bending the body first one way then the other, and 
making all kinds of contortions with a handkerchief held 
in both hands, at one time suspended over their heads, at 
another brought more or less rapidly over their shoulders, 
their arms, their bust. The feet shuffled gently at the 
same time in measure to the music, but so slowly that it 



DAXCIXG KABYLES — DAXCIXG GIRL. 



507 



took ten minutes to get over ten yards of space. Some- 
times they assumed a semi-kneeling position. The attempt 
to assume graceful attitudes and to bend the body into all 
kinds of elegant postures on the part of labourers and 
draymen was supremely grotesque. Yet it was an emblem 
of eastern life and eastern ways, for such I am told is 
dancing in the east. The accompanying woodcut of an 
Arab dancing girl is evidently the model my Kabyle 
dancers had in view. The performance over, we applauded 
vehemently, shook hands with the performers, and drank 




DANCING GIRL. 



our coffee. After fraternizing for an hour with the Kabyles, 
who were the very pink of politeness, we took leave of 
them. A little further we stopped at an Arab cafe where 
vocalization was the order of the day. Here, also, the 
Arabs were sitting cross-legged on a low divan, round a 
large room or shop opening on to the street, smoking and 



508 ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 

drinking coffee. Both the music and the songs consisted 
of a monotonous chant, in which the voice rose and fell a 
few notes only. The sounds were not devoid of melody, 
and it is easy to comprehend that such a chant, with 
words that interest the hearers, sung under the tent in 
the desert by a youthful and. fresh voice, would command 
a sympathetic and attentive audience. 

The Arab school for boys struck my fancy greatly. I 
went into several, and was greatly pleased to see the 
master, generally an old man with a white beard, sitting 
cross-legged, and surrounded by a swarm of pretty little 
black-eyed boys in eastern dress. They also sat cross- 
legged, with slates in their hands covered with Arabic 
characters, repeating with shrill voices the verses from 
the Koran which they were being taught. We were not 
admitted into the girls' schools, but I saw a very inte- 
resting assemblage of little Arab girls from six to twelve 
years of age in the embroidery workshop of Madame 
Luce, a French lady. Partly from philanthropic motives 
she teaches young Jewish and Arab girls the art of em- 
broidery, and under her auspices they become apt scholars, 
as was evident from the numerous and lovely embroidered 
objects of ladies' toilette that were shown us. Many of 
the little girls were perfect little houris. 

To one fresh from Europe, who has never seen an 
eastern city, there is a great charm in wandering through 
the old streets of Algiers. We fancy we are in the Bagdad 
or the Damascus of our youth, amidst the scenes of the 
Arabian Nights Entertainments which afforded us, once 
upon a time, such intense enjoyment. All the pageantry 
ot the eastern tales rises up before us. The veiled women 
are the sultan's daughters, the old men in flowing robes 
are viziers or magicians, the young men in Arab costume 
are the king's sons in disguise ! 

On every side are evidences of a strange southern land. 
One day I was riveted for an hour by the tricks of a 
Negro conjuror, exhibiting in an open space, and sur- 
rounded by a crowd of laughing, grinning, applauding 
Arabs, Kabyles, Negroes, the first row squatting on the 
ground, the second standing. He was a coal-black, tall, 



THE NEGRO CONJUROR DERVISHES. 509 

lithe/ supple young fellow of three or four- and- twenty, 
naked to the waist, with tight-fitting drawers only reaching 
halfway down the thighs. Round his neck he wore a live 
snake some three feet long (a coluber), with which he 
appeared to be on the most affectionate terms ; it was his 
principal plaything. He constantly had it in his hands, 
sometimes twining it round his waist, arms, or neck, and 
sometimes holding it by the tail and extending it full 
length towards the crowd as he ambled round his circle, 
thereby increasing its area, as all drew back in dismay. 
He talked incessantly, laughing, like his audience, at his 
own conceits, and was ever on the move. His motions 
were so rapid and so graceful withal,, that he seemed more 
like a wild animal than a man. He did many wonderful 
things much to our delight, such as breaking huge flat 
stones, previously examined by us and found without 
flaw, by side blows of the hand. This feat he attributed 
clearly not to strength or knack, but to a series of most 
grotesque incantations delivered before the blows were 
struck. 

One evening we went to witness the rites of a sect of 
Arab " dervishes," who pretend that they can, as holy 
men, eat and drink anything however noxious to human 
life with impunity. The origin of the sect is said to be 
as follows : — On one occasion, Mahomed, pursued by his 
enemies, was reduced to the last extremity, and his 
followers complained to him that they had nothing to eat. 
On this he reproached them for their want of faith, and 
told them that if they believed they would find that they 
could eat anything, stones, glass, scorpions, and derive 
nourishment therefrom. They tried the experiment and 
found the prophet's words true, so they founded a sect to 
the members of which this miraculous power has ever 
since descended, and which still nourishes. 

We were shown into an Arab house in one of the back 
streets, the internal courtyard of which had been built 
over so as to constitute a large room, with wide arcades on 
the four sides, both on the ground and on the first 
floor. Tne central area was covered with carpets, and on 
one side was a slightly raised divan, on which four Arab 



510 ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 

Dervishes were seated cross-legged. There were many 
other Arabs, some forty or fifty, in other parts of the room, 
mostly sitting cross-legged. At a given time one of 
those on the divan, who seemed the chief, took up a 
tambourine, which he struck gently. The other three did 
the same, and then they all began a monotonous chant in 
three notes, keeping time with the tambourines. Every 
few minutes the tambourines were given to an attendant 
to warm over a charcoal fire. Gradually they increased 
the rapidity of the chant and music, when an old man 
advancing from the crowd, and kneeling down before the 
divan, began to chant in unison, rocking backwards and 
forwards. One by one several others came forward, knelt 
down and joined in, rocking themselves to and fro in front 
of the divan, and chanting like the rest. 

By degrees they became more excited, their movements 
assumed a more rapid character, and their features a 
wilder and wilder expression. Then began the performance. 
A red-hot poker was brought, and the old man licked it 
round and round, over and over again, as if it had been 
sugar-candy. A flat spade of iron red-hot was now pro- 
duced, and he repeatedly stamped upon it with naked 
feet, and drew it over the palms of his hands, without 
apparent suffering. This man then knelt and resumed 
his rapid backward and forward movement, roaring aloud 
to the monotonous music until he fell into epileptiform 
convulsions and was carried away. His neighbour next 
presented himself, and thin pointed skewers were run 
through both cheeks horizontally, and others vertically, 
so as to sew up his mouth. Blood and saliva poured 
down his cheeks whilst he recommenced his swaying 
motions in front of the divan, the rest of his com- 
panions, uttering short, loud grunts or groans each second 
or two. A third devotee was given large pieces of glass, 
which he crushed audibly in his mouth with his teeth, 
apparently swallowing the pieces. Then there was a 
general distribution of the thick fleshy leaves of the 
Prickly-pear, covered with hard spines half an inch long. 
They all threw themselves on this delicate food like wild 
beasts, biting large pieces off the leaves, thorns and all, 



DERVISHES AND MOSQUES. 511 

arid crunching them with apparent delight. We were 
told that the best of the exhibition had to come, that they 
would swallow live scorpions, and do other wonderful feats, 
showing that they were not like other men, and could do 
with impunity what would destroy any one else. This 
our Arab interpreter Mahmoud appeared firmly to believe. 
But I and my friends were tired and disgusted with these 
howling maniacs, and departed. There must be some trick 
in this performance, although I failed to discover it. 

There are many objects of interest to the stranger at 
Algiers which I have not space even to enumerate. I 
would make an exception in favour of the Mosques, large 
naked edifices with semicircular or Saracenic arches, 
the floors covered with Turkey carpets or mats, for the 
barefooted worshippers. The Museum is also well worth 
a careful visit; it contains many interesting Carthaginian 
and Roman antiquities, the latter showing what a high 
degree of civilization and what great importance the 
Roman colonies and towns had attained during the Roman 
occupation of Algeria. In all they do at present, both in 
a military and social point of view, the French seem to be 
merely following in the steps of their Roman predecessors. 
As they advance south they are occupying the same 
military posts, colonizing the same towns, and finding 
that whatever they have to do has been done before them, 
nearly two thousand years ago, by the conquerors of the 
ancient world. What this wonderful people did in Gaul 
and in Britain they were doing at the same time in north- 
western Africa and in a score of other regions, 

No one should leave the Museum without casting a glance 
at a ghastly vestige of the cruelty of the Algerine pirates in 
former days. There was a tradition connected with one 
of the Algerine fortresses that above two hundred years 
ago a Moorish convert to Christianity, who would not 
abjure his new religion, was buried and built up alive in 
one of the walls of the fortress. The French had to de- 
molish this fortress, and truly, in the very depth of one of 
the walls, was found the body of the poor victim. A cast 
was taken, and now more than two centuries afterwards it 
presents as vivid and terrible an embodiment of his torture 



512 ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 

and death as does the cast at Pompeii of the death of the 
family overtaken by the ashes of Vesuvius eighteen 
centuries ago. His hands and feet were bound with cords, 
and he was evidently thrown horizontally into the wet 
mortar. His mouth is pursed up to prevent its enter- 
ing, and gives the impression of horror and agony. 

Algiers and its strange life and scenes surveyed and 
analysed, my thoughts turned to the principal object of 
my visit, the study of climate, revealed by vegetation. As 
the best way of judging what the Algerine climate really 
is, I devoted a couple of days to the examination of the 
Jardin d'Essai or Experimental Garden, of which I had 
heard much. 

This garden was commenced some twenty years ago by 
Government as a botanical and experimental garden. It 
is situated about two miles from Algiers, in the centre of 
the bay, beyond Mustapha Inferior. It occupies the level 
ground at the foot of the Sahel hill, extending to the 
sea-shore, and ascending the Sahel itself for a short distance* 
Within the last few years, it has been sold to a com- 
pany which is doing much for Algeria, the Compagnie 
Thalabot. All the plans of the Government are being 
continued on the system of a vast nursery or horticultural 
establishment, meant to pay its expenses by the sale of 
plants and trees. The soil is a mixture of calcareous loam 
with micaceous and siliceous sand. The most remarkable 
feature in the garden is a splendid avenue of Chamserops 
humilis, Latania Borbonica, and Draesena Draco, alter- 
nating on each side for a distance of nearly half a mile* 
The Chamserops are at least ten or twelve feet high, the 
Latanias and Dracsenas higher still, quite trees. The 
effect of this wide tropical avenue of Palms is perfectly 
magical. They are in splendid health and beauty, although 
many of the leaves had been damaged by the severe weather 
of March. It would appear that the weather was as bad 
in the year 1869 during March in Northern Africa as in 
Southern Europe — constant winds from the north, with 
hail, and a low temperature predominating. The Palms, I 
was told, had suffered unusually, but were only damaged 
in foliage, not in structure. There is also a fine avenue, 



THE JARDIX D'ESSAI. 513 

and a small thicket of noble specimens, of the Phoenix 
dactylifera. 

One large border devoted to hardy Palms, capable of 
growing with perfect health in the climate of Algeria, 
filled me with admiration. There I saw growing freely, 
luxuriantly, to the height of from ten to twenty or thirty 
feet, in the full perfection of health, many Palms that I 
had never seen before out of Palm-houses, always excepting 
those I mentioned in a former chapter, as grown in the open 
air on the Riviera. Thus I noted the Phoenix pumila, re- 
clinata, spinosa, leonensis ; Sabal Adansoni ; Chamserops 
humilis, Martiana, tomentosa, palmetto, excelsa, elegans, 
hystrix, Birrhus; Copernicia cerrfera ; Corypha australis; 
Latania Borbonica (immense) ; Brahea conduplicata ; 
Thrinax speciosa, radicata, argentea ; Bhaphis flabelli- 
formis ; Ceroxylum niveum ; Chamsedorea speciosa, lepi- 
dota, scandens, elegans ; Oreodoxa regia ; Cocos Datil, 
speciosa, botryophora, lapidea, australis, coronata; Jubsea 
spectabilis ; Attalea speciosa ; Caryota Camingii, furfu- 
race*, urens ; Arenga saccharifera ; and several others, the 
names of which I did not note. 

There were also beautiful beds of Cycadeacese, Bona- 
partese or Dasylirise, Dracaenas, and Yuccas. Among 
others plants I noticed Dion edule, Encephalartos horridus, 
Caffra Lehmanni, longifolius ; Cycas Bumphii, circinatis, 
revoluta — all large plants, two or three feet high, Zamia 
fusca, latifolia; Musa Ensete, Strelitzia ovata ; Draccena 
indivisa, Draco, unibraculit'era ; Cordyline congesta, Bra- 
-iliensis, cannsefolia ; Yucca aloifolia, ^loriosa, Draconis, 
filifera, angustifolia, Parmentieri, canaliculata. All these 
trees and plants were remarkable for the perfection of their 
development, making due allowance for the winds and 
cold of March, which, as stated, had damaged the leaves 
in some cases. The Cocos botryophora, the Cocos speciosa, 
and the Oreodoxa regia were above thirty feet in height, 
although young trees — the siliceous soil evidently suiting 
them. The Sabal Adansoni w T ere very fine plants, one mass 
of leaves, but these leaves were so torn by the wind that 
they had lost all claim to beauty. Even the Latania 
Borbonica, magnificent as it was as a tree fifteen feet high, 

L L 



514 ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 

is not so handsome as when well grown in a stove, with 
plenty of room to develop each leaf. 

The first impression produced by the sight of these 
beautiful Palms, Cycadeacese, Zamia?, and Bonapartese, 
was that I had landed in a truly tropical country, and I 
cast my eyes around to see if it was not really so. To my 
surprise I found oq all sides the evidence of a " real 
winter/' of a winter apparently as severe as the one we. 
experience on the north shores of the Mediterranean, in 
a latitude 5° more north, but protected from north winds 
by the Maritime Alps. The deciduous trees, Mulberry, 
Tig, Plane, Pomegranate, Willow, were only just beginning 
to show signs of life (April 18). The Vines were throwing 
forth their first leaves, the flowers were not yet developed. 
There were but few Roses out, and those principally the 
hardy Bengal Hose. Spring bulbs were going or gone 
out of flower, but the Ranunculus, the Sparaxis, and Ixia 
were in full and profuse bloom. I had seen orchards of 
the edible Banana on my way from Algiers, evidently 
cultivated for the fruit, but they were mere leafless stems 
one or two years old, torn and battered by the winter, and 
just showing at their extremities the first new leaf. On 
the other hand, there were scarcely any Orange trees or 
Lemon trees, either in the Jardin d'Essai or in the gardens 
of the country houses at Mustapha Superior, the hilly 
health suburb of Algiers where are situated most of the 
country houses of the rich Algerines, and the favourite 
villas for invalids. 

In a word, there was conclusive evidence that vegetation 
suffers more from the influence of winter at Algiers than 
on the Genoese undercliff, and that spring was not then 
more advanced. The only deduction I could make was that 
the plants enumerated were hardy enough to pass through 
nearly the same amount of winter cold as experienced 
on the protected Riviera, 5° more north, but that the greater 
heat of the summer in Algiers secures to them a more 
luxuriant, more exuberant life and growth. This is more 
especially shown by the Banana, which grows anywhere on 
the Riviera, but only gives ripe fruit in very exceptionally 



NORTH-EAST EXPOSURE OF ALGIERS. 515 

warm corners, such as the bays between Mentone and 
Monaco ; whereas it is evidently cultivated extensively in 
the vicinity of Algiers for the sale of its fruit, and that in 
situations fully exposed to the north winds. 

These facts are easily understood when we consider the 
position of Algiers. Being exposed due north and north- 
east on the south shore of the Mediterranean, on the 
slopes of a crescented hill from 800 to 600 feet high (the 
Sahel), the north-west and north-east winds, which reign 
during the winter, arrive cool and loaded with moisture. 
They thus bring moderate cold and a damp atmosphere, 
the moisture of which often falls as cool rain, condensed 
by the hills and mountains behind Algiers. The town 
being north-east and north, the sun in winter, when low in 
the horizon, cannot shine with the same power as on the 
north shore of the Mediterranean, where its rays impinge 
directly, all day, on the undercliff. On the 20th of April, 
even at twelve o'clock, the fronts of the houses at Mustapha 
Superior were in the shade; being situated on the north 
slope of a hill looking towards the beautiful bay, they 
are naturally built to face the sea. Moreover, as the north 
winds are necessarily moist from having crossed over the 
entire width of the Mediterranean, or from having come 
from the Atlantic, the sky is whitish owing to watery 
vapour in the atmosphere ; it is not dry and blue as on the 
north Mediterranean shore — a condition which still more 
diminishes the power of the sun's rays. 

After visiting the Jardin d'Essai, on one occasion, I 
drove a mile or two further on, ascended a favourite ravine 
or valley called the "Vallon Frais," passed along the 
summit of the Sahel, but on a road below its level, and 
returned by Mustapha Superior. Wherever we found pro- 
tection from the north sea winds, in hollows and valleys, 
vegetation at once assumed great luxuriance. Fig, Olive, 
and Orange trees appeared, large in size and healthy iu 
development, but disappeared as soon as the protection 
ceased. 

It is certain that there is nothing like the Uixunance 
of winter vegetation at Algiers that is observed betw en 

l l 2 



516 ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 

Nice and San Remo, The Orange and Lemon trees cannot 
stand north sea winds even in latitude 36°, although they 
can bear south sea winds in latitude 43°; so they are 
absent, except in sheltered nooks and corners, where they 
grow well enough. Even the Olive tree does not seem to 
flourish when freely exposed to these north winds at 
Algiers ; it has to seek sheltered valleys and nooks where 
the wind does not reach it. There is nothing like the 
Olive groves of Mentone to be seen at or near Algiers. 
Nor is it surprising, when we consider that these same 
north winds, loaded, with moisture, bring cold rain, hoar 
frost, and snow to the mountain regions of the Atlas, 120 
miles further south, and even to the oases of the Great 
Desert of Sahara, a hundred miles more to the south than 
the last Atlas ridges. (See The Great Desert. Tristram.) 
In the contest between " latitude" and " protection/'' it is 
clear that thorough protection from the north can hold its 
own against many degrees of latitude. 

I do not for one moment pretend to say that the winter 
climate of Algiers is a cold one — the thermometer is there 
to prove that it is not ; but the spring vegetation also 
proves that there is a great deal of cool winter weather 
and cool rain, owing to exposure to the north without any 
protection whatever. These cool winds and rains, not- 
withstanding lower latitude and greater summer heat, 
evidently unfit Algiers proper, that is, the town and 
vicinity of Algiers and the coast line, for the free cultiva- 
tion of delicate plants, such as the Lemon, which require 
sunshine, heat, and immunity from north winds winter and 
summer ; whereas these same plants thrive perfect^ in a 
more northern but at the same time a more protected region. 

The high medium temperature of Algiers during the 
winter months, as given by observers, is owing, in a 
great measure, to the nights being warmer than they 
are on the sheltered north Mediterranean shores, such as 
the Genoese Riviera, where the air at night is cooled by 
down-draughts from the mountains that protect it from 
the north, the Maritime Alps. 

Ha T dn<* thus examined the eastern suburbs of Algiers, 
I was desirous to see the region lying due west, so we ar- 



SIDI FERRTJCH — MONASTERY OF LA TRAPPE. 5 17 

ranged an excursion to a Trappist monastery, situated on 
the coast about fifteen miles west of the city. 

Leaving* the port and town behind, we passed through 
the western suburb of Algiers, called Ste. Eugenie, where 
there are some country villas, situated between the base 
of the Sahel and the sea. They are decidedly objection- 
able, being at the extremity of the western promontory 
that contributes to form the bay of Algiers, and exposed, 
consequently, both to the north-west and north-east winds. 
The road skirts Cape Pescale, which terminates the pro- 
montory, and then turns in a south-westerly direction, 
still following the shore at the foot of the Sahel. A little 
further on the Sahel hill leaves the coast, or rather follows 
it a few miles inland. It sends, however, buttresses, 
ribs as it were, into the sea, which give a very jagged, 
irregular character to the shore, forming sheltered coves 
and bays, celebrated in former times as the retreat of the 
Aigerine pirate vessels. It is here that they used to lie, 
ready at any moment to avail themselves of favourable 
winds to go to sea, and pounce on their prey. The road 
all but skirts the coast, passing through a plain only 
partially cultivated, and still covered in a great measure 
with the Chamserops Palm, Cistus, and wild flowers and 
grasses. Here and there we came upon patches of culti- 
vation, corn farms, Geranium farms for scent, and pastures, 
which, by their luxuriant crops, showed the soil to be a 
very fertile one. 

Fifteen miles from Algiers we reached a castle sur- 
mounted promontory, Sidi Ferruch, forming a bay shel- 
tered from the south-west, where the French army landed 
on the 14th of June, 1830. On the 19th of the same 
month was fought the battle of Staoueli, so called from an 
elevated plain of that name, four miles inland from the 
point of disembarkation, on which it took place. In this 
battle the Turks were totally routed, and their defeat led 
shortly afterwards to the surrender of Algiers by the Dey. 
Thirteen years later, in 18+3, this plain, extending over 
220(3 acres of land, was given over by the French Govern- 
ment to the monastic order of the Trappists, who at once 
commeuced the foundation of their present establishment. 



518 ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 

After twenty-seven years' struggle with nature, they have 
transformed the wild Palm- covered plain of Staoueli into 
a garden of Eden. 

Ladies are not admitted within the monastery, so those 
who accompanied us had to remain in the Porter's lodge, 
much to their chagrin. We passed through a wide portal 
surmounted by the following inscription : — 

" If life is sad at La Trappe, death is holy and sweet." 

And then entered a large courtyard, in the centre of which 
grows a group of magnificent Date Palms, the trunks 
of which are so close that they appear to come from 
the same root. The tents of the Dey of Algiers and of 
the Beys of Constantine and Oran, were raised under their 
shade before the battle of Staoueli. Round this courtyard, 
and round a further one, are good substantial buildings, 
in which live the monks, 120 in number. These buildings 
are only remarkable by their naked simplicity; with the 
Trappists, everything, clothes, furniture, food, is reduced 
to the simplest expression compatible with life. I was 
much struck by the dormitory, a large room, in the 
centre of which, in a double row, are small numbered 
cabins, six feet long and five wide, quite open at the top, 
half open at the side, with little iron beds, one thin mat- 
tress, and a blanket. Here they all sleep, are ill and die. 
Two bedsteads were turned up, and we were told their 
occupants had died the day before. On entering, the 
monks lose their names, and assume conventual names, 
Father Thomas, Father Philippe. When a monk dies, it 
is merely Father Joseph who dies. Silence is the rule of 
the order, the only one who is allowed to speak being the 
one who is told out for the day to take strangers over the 
premises. 

The monks are divided into two sections, the spiritual 
fathers and the working fathers. The former, dressed in 
white, never work, but perform masses in the chapel day 
and night, one service beginning as the other ends, in 
order, as I was told, " that the praise of the Lord may be 
suns without ceasing." The working fathers are dressed 
in brown woollen gowns, with a rope cord at the waist, 



MONASTERY OF LA TRAPPE — CEMETERY. 519 

and work on the farm from morn to eve. I never saw 
more splendid animals, cows, oxen, mules, horses, goats, 
sheep, and pigs, than those reared on the farm. The farm 
buildings were perfect, and the fields in a splendid state of 
cultivation, growing Vines, fruit, Mulberry trees, cereals, 
and grasses, in abundance. We were told that the 
farming profits were very considerable, and were all con- 
sumed in charity, principally in giving food and drink to 
those who applied at the gate. The monks themselves 
only lived on bread and vegetables, drinking water. Thus 
they starved in the midst of plenty. The father who gave 
me these details said that all postulants who presented 
themselves were admitted if there was a vacancy, which 
there generally was, and no questions were asked. If 
their courage failed them they were free to depart when 
they liked. But a small proportion of those who entered 
yearly remained, for, said he, they wanted faith, and 
mistook temporary feelings, grief, despair, disgust of the 
world, for a real religious vocation founded on " faith." 
So they soon lost courage, and the emotions that drove 
them into retreat calming down, they slided back into the 
world. Had monastic institutions always been founded 
and directed on these principles, had they merely incul- 
cated self-denial and meditation, enforced labour and reli- 
gious discipline, and left those who joined them free to go 
or to come, they would not have fallen into such general 
disapprobation. 

We were shown the cemetery, a mere ordinary burying- 
place with mounds and crosses only, to show where the 
dead lie. The Trappists do not spend their time in 
digging and filling up their own graves as reported. When 
a brother dies his grave is dug and he is buried, that is 
all. The organization of this monastic order as thus ex- 
plained is admirable. It affords a field for the two different 
types of the human mind which are everywhere to be 
found. The spiritualists, the followers of Plato, would 
naturally become spiritual fathers and pass their time in 
ecstatic contemplation and meditation and in religious 
observances, whereas the positivists, the followers of 
Aristotle, would as naturally take to the farm. As to 



520 



ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 



myself, were I to become a Trappist, I should at once 
apply for the post of " gardener." It is scarcely necessary to 
add that the portrait given in the woodcut is that of a 
e f spiritualist" father. He had been a Zouave soldier, 
took refuge from the world at Staoueli, and died there. 

This visit to the Trappist monastery vividly recalled 
ideas which had occupied my thoughts ever since landing, 
and which every day's residence in Algeria has tended to 
strengthen. The settlement of the French in Algeria, 
although undertaken and continued for political purposes 




THE TKAPPIST ZOUAVE. 



only, has in reality a decided missionary character. It is 
the first grand inroad made on the head-quarters of 
Mahomedan infidelity since the time of the Crusades. 
^Nearly all the north-west coast of Africa, down to the Great 
Desert, has been occupied by the French nation, never to 
be given up again, and along with their sway, Christianity 



THE FARM AT LA TRAPPE. 521 

and Christian ideas of right and wrong "have established 
themselves over this, the most fertile region of North Africa, 
the great stronghold of Mahomedanism in the Middle 
Ages, It was from this part of Africa that the Mahomedan 
Arabs passed over to Europe, to overrun nearly all its 
southern regions. Christian Europe, eleven centuries 
ago, in the days of Charles Martel (battle of Tours, 
7 32), pushed back into Africa the threatening wave of 
Mahomedanism, and now, after this long lapse of time, 
Christian Europe has permanently occupied the very 
country from whence the fierce Mahomedan of the early 
Middle Ages came. Singular it is that it should have 
been left to the nineteenth century to destroy this nest of 
Mahomedan pirates, that all the great kings and emperors 
of modern history should have allowed them to reign over 
and ravage the Mediterranean seas. It is not much more 
than forty years since France took upon herself the glorious 
task of chastising and expelling the infidel pirates from 
their blood-stained home. 

I inquired of the father who took us round how it was 
that so little had been accomplished in the cultivation of 
the land between their establishment and Algiers, for we 
had seen nothing like the luxuriance of the Trappist farm. 
His answer was that it was not so much from superior 
fertility of soil as from the constant indefatigable labour 
and intelligent management of the monks. The latter, 
however, I subsequently learnt were at first considerably 
assisted by convict labour granted by the authorities. The 
French Government has made the most energetic and liberal 
efforts to colonize the fertile lands of Algeria, giving land, 
seed, tools without stint, but hitherto with very partial 
success. The colonists are very often men who have not 
succeeded in their own country for want of the very qualities 
necessary to make them succeed in another ; they drink, 
or neglect their farms, or mismanage them. If a year of 
prosperity comes they spend the money, and then in the 
year of bad crops are obliged to borrow at ruinous interest, 
get involved, and have to sell at any sacrifice. Moreover, 
they often lose their health, even if in a healthy district, 
from bad and insufficient food, from bad water, and from 



522 ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 

living in the period of first settlement months in tents 
under an African sun. After years of struggle, broken in 
constitution, over-burdened with debt, they die or make 
way for men with a little capital, who buy them out and 
profit by their labours, improvidences, and misfortunes. 
The second generation thus begins under better auspices, has 
good food, which the soil now produces, and lives in well- 
built houses, which shelter them from the heat in summer 
and the rain in winter, so they flourish and thrive where 
their predecessors sickened and died. Such is the tale I 
heard everywhere all over Algeria. 

On the return journey we took another road at a higher 
level, on the Sahel, passed through several flourishing 
villages and well-managed farms, and descended on Algiers 
by the heights of Bouzareah. The view from these heights 
is very fine, and the valley down which the road descends 
to Algiers is very fresh and green. There is, however, 
nothing in its beauty to warrant the poetical raptures into 
which most tourists in Algeria break forth in describing 
the Bouzareah hills and ravines, unless it be the numerous 
dwarf Palms, Aloes, and Opuntias. Yet they are not so 
very beautiful when seen dust-covered on the roadside, and 
they are met everywhere about Algiers. On an unaccustomed 
eye, however, they may, and probably do produce a deep 
impression. 

Algiers and its vicinity analysed, and time pressing, I 
and my travelling companions, a distinguished and bril- 
liantly intellectual American gentleman, member of Con- 
gress for New York, and his accomplished lady, commenced 
preparations for the second stage of our travels : the expe- 
dition to Fort Napoleon, in the " Grande Kabylie," at the 
foot of the Jurjura Mountains. There are diligences all over 
Algeria, but not wishing to travel at night, and being tied 
by time, I applied to the head of the administration of the 
mails and diligences for a good carriage, with relays of 
horses at p;oper places. The plan of our journey was laid 
before the authorities, and the necessary measures were so 
judiciously taken from head -quarters that the entire route 
was performed easily, comfortably, without the slightest 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY. 523 

hitch or trouble. The cost was, we considered, reasonable, 
although above ordinary posting rates. 

PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY AND GEOLOGY OF ALGERIA " LA 

GRANDE KABYLLE" FORT NAPOLEON. 

Before beginning the narration of my travels in the 
interior of Algeria I must say a few words on the topo- 
graphy, history, ethnology, and geology of the country and 
of its inhabitants, in order to facilitate the comprehension 
of what I saw. But I shall be very brief. 

Algeria is a mere African Switzerland, as will be per- 
ceived on referring to the map at the commencement of 
this chapter. I have drawn it up more especially to show 
the physical geography of the country, the mountains, the 
valleys, the rivers, and the Desert. It is founded on a very 
good skeleton map in Dr. Armand's work, entitled " Mede- 
cine et Hygiene des Pays Chauds." Algeria is constituted 
by a mass of mountains on the north coast of the African 
continent, extending from Morocco westward to the Pachalic 
of Tunis eastward, that is, from longitude 8 West to 
]0 East, or 18 degrees, equivalent to 1200 miles from east 
to west. The Atlas are lost to the east in lower hills scarcely 
deserving the name of mountains, which form the back- 
ground of the Pachalic of Tripoli between the sea and the 
Desert. Algeria is comprised between the 37th and the 
33rd degrees of latitude, and extends about 200 miles from 
the Mediterranean to the oases of the Desert, where moun- 
tains and raised plains disappear, and where the level is 
often only a few feet above the ocean. Mount Atlas, which 
constitutes this Alpine country, instead of being formed by 
one range, as is generally supposed, is formed by three 
ranges, rather blended in the province of Constantine, but 
quite distinct in those of Algiers and Oran, with inter- 
vening valleys. These ranges are : — 

1st. The Little Atlas, which, beginning with the Jurjura 
Mountains, seen from Algiers on the eastern horizon about 
sixty miles distant, runs parallel to the coast, at a distance 
inland of from one to ten or fifteen miles, nearly as far as 
Mostaganem. Between this range and the Sahel hills, on 



524 ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 

the north side of which the city of Algiers is built, lies the 
well-known plain of the Mitidjah. 

2nd. The Middle Atlas, which commences at Bougie, 
120 miles east of Algiers, and extends westward into 
Morocco; it also lies parallel to the coast, at a distance of 
from forty to sixty miles from the sea. Between these two 
ranges lies a fertile alluvial valley, from ten to thirty miles 
broad, called the valley of the Cheliff, from the river of that 
name, which runs through it. This, the largest river in 
North Africa, after the Nile, takes its rise on the north 
slopes of the " Great Atlas/'' the third and most southern 
range, crosses the elevated plains which lie between the 
two inner ranges, also the Middle Atlas, and runs into the 
sea at Mostaganem. The alluvial soil in the Cheliff valley, 
in the space comprised between the Little and the Middle 
Atlas chains, along with the Mitidjah plain, constitute more 
especially the cultivable part of Algeria. It is often called 
"the Tell/' from the Latin word "Tellus," earth. 

3rd. The Great Atlas is a mountain range which extends 
from Tunisia to Morocco, from forty to sixty miles south 
of the Middle Atlas. The region contained between the 
two latter chains is called the Algerine Desert, the Desert 
of Angad, or the region of the High Plains (Hauts Pla- 
teaux). The latter appellation is derived from the fact that 
the greater part, especially to the east, is occupied by plains 
several thousand feet above the level of the sea. The streams 
or torrents which carry the watershed from the southern 
slopes of the Middle Atlas and from the northern slopes of 
the Great Atlas, run into these plains, and generally finding 
no exit, form large " salt water" lakes and marshes in the 
centre called chotts, as rivers always do when they run into 
lakes without exit. The largest of these water-courses, 
the Cheliff, as already stated, finds its way to the sea. It 
takes its rise on the northern slopes of the Great Atlas, 
crosses the High Plains, or the Algerine Desert, and finds 
a cleft in the Middle Atlas by which it reaches the Tell, 
the alluvial valley that bears its name. 

South of this, the third mountain chain of the Great 
Atlas, the Alpine region ceases, and the great Desert of 
Sahara, with its ocean of sand and its oases, really begins. 



PHYSICAL GEOGRAPHY — BACE TYPES. 525 

Biskra, one of the first oases met with, is only one hundred 
and sixty feet above the sea-level. The appellation Little 
and Great Atlas does not apply to altitude but rather to 
extent from east to west. Thus the Jurjura mountains, 
which attain an elevation of seven thousand feet, are the 
highest of all, and yet they are in the Little Atlas chain. 
I stood in the Cedar Forest above Teniet-el-Had, on a 
summit of the Middle Atlas 5600 l'eet high by the baro- 
meter, an altitude which I believe the Great Atlas further 
south does not attain. 

These three mountain ranges are not mathematically 
uniform, but describe sinuosities north and south, throw 
out spurs and buttresses in every direction, divide into 
subordinate ranges, especially in Oran, and altogether make, 
as I have said, a very Switzerland of Algeria, subordinate 
however to the natural divisions which I have given, and 
which I have plainly delineated in the map. A knowledge 
of this, the physical geography of Algeria, throws a great 
light on its past history, on that of its inhabitants, and 
on its climate. 

In describing Algiers I have given an idea of the principal 
race types that inhabit Algeria. I will now recapitulate 
them, making a few additional observations on their origin 
and history. 

The northern part of Africa from the shores of the 
Atlantic to the Red Sea, and beyond, appears to have 
been inhabited, from the dawn of historical times, by two 
distinct families of the Aramsean branch of the white race, 
the Berbers (Kibyles and Touaregs) and the Arabs ; and 
the two families still exist in these countries. The Berbers 
have ever been mountaineers, agriculturists attached to the 
soil they cultivate, living in stone-built cabins, owning 
flocks but not horses, for which they do not care, as not 
adapted to their mountain residence. The Arabs have ever 
been nomadic, living in tents, owning flocks which they 
drive from one region to another, from the plains to the 
lower mountains, and vice versa. They attach grert im- 
portance to the possession of horses, and despise towns, 
which they destroy and do not rebuild. 

The Carthaginians, the Komans, the Vandals, succes- 



526 ALGIERS AND ALGERIA. 

sively occupied the shores of Algeria and the fertile plains 
of the Tell, driving the original Arabs into the Great 
Desert, and the Berbers or Kabyles into the higher moun- 
tains, where both retained their independence. When the 
religious and military migration of the Arabian Arabs took 
place, after the death of Mahomed, in the seventh century, 
the Arabs of the plains, reinforced by their eastern country- 
men, occupied the entire country with the exception of the 
higher mountains, of which the Jurjura are the centre, 
where the Berbers or Kabyles successfully defended them- 
selves. They, the Arabs, reigned supreme on the shore, in 
the plains, and on the lower mountain ranges, and were 
the conquering race until the Turks took possession of 
Algiers (1516), of Tunis, and of Oran, and made their 
authority felt and accepted by the formerly victorious Arabs 
as far south as the Great Desert. Their power was destroyed 
in 1830 by the downfall of the Dey of Algiers, and their 
dominion in the three provinces of Algeria has fallen into 
the hands of the French. The latter, after more than forty 
years' occupation of the country, have established their 
authority more firmly than any power since the days of the 
Bomans. Thanks to thirty years' all but incessant fighting, 
they have subdued the hitherto independent Berber or 
Kabyle mountaineers, as well as the Arabs of the Tell and 
of the Desert, and they hold the entire region comprised 
in the map, including the first oases of the Great Desert, 
Biskra, Lagouat, Tuggurt. 

The Tell Arabs, owing probably to their nomadic 
pastoral habits, and to their flying before invasion, have 
retained pretty nearly the type of their original race, and 
resemble their Arabian or Sahara countrymen. But the 
town Arabs and Kabyles have in a great measure lost all 
distinctive features from causes that are easily understood. 
Each successive invasion of Algeria by strangers drove 
many of the previous inhabitants up into the mountains, 
where they amalgamated with the Kabyles, intermarrying 
with them. Thus the Berber race has been modified by 
intermixture with Carthaginians, Romans, Vandals, Arabs, 
and even Negroes ; for in all times Negroes from the 
southern regions of Saiiara, from the Soudan and Tim- 



RACE TYPES — GEOLOGY. 527 

buctoo, have found their way to the north African coast. 
In the villages of Kabylia many kinds of race type are 
consequently seen, from the swarthy, olive-visaged, black- 
eyed Arab, to the fair-skinned, iight-haired descendant of 
the Vandals. The race purity of the Algiers Arabs has 
been modified in the same way. 

Previous to starting on the excursion to Kabylia and 
the Jurjura mouutains I was anxious to make myself ac- 
quainted with the geology of Algeria, but singularly 
enough could find no work on the subject at Algiers. 
The various French Guidebooks do not even allude to the 
geology of the country, nor do they give any account of 
the nature of the rocks and soils in the different regions 
which they describe. I was told that the only work on 
the subject is a report of a Government commission, pub- 
lished in quarto, with a map issued by the School of Mines 
many years ago, but I could not get a copy. In the cata- 
logues of books on Algeria, published by the booksellers in 
Algiers and Paris, there was no mention of even a 
pamphlet on Algerine geology, a very remarkable fact 
when we consider the bearing geological formations have 
on agriculture, and on the botanical aspects of a country. 
It would seem as if the study of, and the interest in, 
geology in France, even in its application to agriculture, 
were confined to the scientific men professionally connected 
with it. Neither could I find any information in any of 
the English works of travel in Algeria that I could obtain. 
I was thus reduced to my own observations. On my 
return through Paris I discovered, not without trouble, a 
book written by M. L. Yille, an engineer, entitled 
" Recherches sur les Roches, les Eaux, et les Gites mineraux 
des Provinces d'Oran et d' Alger/'' 1852, quarto. By 
means of this interesting work I have been able to test my 
personal experience, and I have been guided by it in 
drawing up the following geological statement. 

The mountains and plains of Algeria are formed by 
igneous rocks, and by primary, secondary, and tertiary 
strata. 

The igneous rocks are not greatly developed, and are 
only found as circumscribed islands in the midst of the 



528 ALGIERS AND ALGER tA. 

strata they have raised. Basalt, porphyry, and quartz are 
thus found here and there in the provinces of Constantine, 
Oran, and Algiers. 

Primary strata or strata of transition, schisto-micacic 
and schisto-granitic, are also found, but do not occupy any 
great extent of the country. The hill of Bouzareah, behind 
Algiers, belongs to this category, as do similar formations 
near Bone in the Province of Constantine. 

The secondary strata constitute the great mass of the 
Atlas, and of the minor chains and ridges. They are 
principally composed of schistic clays, of hard quartz 
sandstones, and of grey limestones of compact crystal- 
line texture. The summits of the mountains are generally 
formed of quartz sandstone, or of limestone, whilst the 
clays occupy their flanks. They are fertile and healthy. 

These various strata have been violently disturbed^ 
Their inclination varies from 45° to 90°. Their direction is 
1° E., 18° S. ; the direction that characterizes the up- 
heaving of the Pyrenees, which took place between the 
deposit of the cretaceous and the lower tertiary formations : 
2° E., 64° N. ; the direction that characterizes the up- 
heaving of the western Alps, which took place between the 
deposit of the middle and the upper tertiary periods : 
3° E., 16° N. ; the direction that characterizes the upheaving 
of the principal chain of the Alps, which took place after 
the deposit of the upper tertiaries. 

This last is the most prevalent direction in Algeria, and 
has given to its surface the character represented in the 
map, that of long chains of mountains, directed from E. 
16° N., to W. 16° S., leaving between them great longi- 
tudinal valleys, parallel to the direction of these chains, 
and generally filled by tertiary formations. 

The various secondary formations of these provinces are 
so identical in their aspect and mineralogical composition, 
that it is natural to conclude that they belong to the same 
geological era. Fossils, at the same time, are so rare, that 
it is generally only by analogy and by mineralogical com- 
position that their age can be determined. M. Benou, 
member of the " Scientific Commission," believes them 
all to belong to the cretaceous period. 



GEOLOGY OF ALGERIA. 529 

The tertiary strata are numerous, and generally occupy 
the great longitudinal valleys which exist between the 
mountain chains constituted by secondary formations. 
These tertiary strata, says M. Ville, have often been carried 
to a great height by the geological convulsion which 
upraised them, as also the secondary strata which generally 
support them. Their characteristic feature is always to 
present great horizontal formations, which enables the 
observer to recognise them even at a distance. This 
horizontal character stands out in strong relief, with the 
abrupt precipitous elevations of the secondaries. 

These tertiary formations constitute the Sahel, the 
plains of the Mitidjah, of the Cheliff, to within twelve 
miles W. of Milianah, the high table land between the 
Middle and Great Atlas, and also the sands and rocks of 
the Great Desert of Sahara. 

They are formed of limestones, sands, sandstones, and 
clays. The tertiary rocks all contain these elements, but 
in different proportions ; so that the physical character 
of the rock is determined by the proportion in which the 
elements are contained in it. The limestones seldom 
present great hardness or compactness, and always contain 
more or less quartz sand, which when it predominates trans- 
forms them into a quartz sandstone, combined by means 
of lime. When this lime disappears, dissolved by the 
action of rain, the sandstones become sands. This decom- 
position may be observed going on in our own time in 
many places. 

There are also to be found, as around Mostacnanem, great 
deposits of sand which have never been agglutinated into 
sandstone, and which the wind blows about, forming hills 
and ridges. The sands of the Great Desert of Sahara, no 
doubt tertiary according to M. Ville, have this double origin. 
They are formed of non-agglutinated original sands, and 
by sands let loose by the decay of limestone rocks con- 
taining them. The rocks which form the mountains and 
ridges that limit the Great Desert to the north, and con- 
stitute the most southern elevations of the Great Atlas, are 
secondary, and formed of quartz sandstone, of schistic clays, 
and of secondary (cretaceous) limestone. 

M M 



530 ALGERIA. 

Alluvial deposits are found in the valleys along the 
coarse of the various rivers. The larger valleys, such as 
those of the ChelifT and of the Chiffa, present these alluvial 
deposits in considerable depth and extent. Thus the 
Cheliff works its course at the bottom of a bed the sides 
of which are often thirty feet in depth, entirely alluvial. 



On leaving Algiers, April 20, for Fort Napoleon, we 
passed due east through an area of partly reclaimed and 
cultivated land for some miles. The bearded Wheat crops 
were vigorous and healthy, above two feet high, and the 
ear fully formed ; the artificial Grasses were equally luxu- 
riant and healthy. Then we began to rise, and came to a 
region where cultivation was only partial, the ground being 
covered with natural Grasses and plants, mingled with 
Dwarf Palms, Chamserops humilis, and with patches of 
grain here and there, planted by the Arabs of the Mitidjah. 
Wherever the land was not under cultivation, the prin- 
cipal plants were the Palm and the Scilla maritima. The 
Chamserops had appeared by the roadside and between 
fields ever since we left Algiers, but here it occupied the 
ground in dense masses, along with its friend, the mari- 
time Squill, called by the inhabitants the wild Ognon. 
Left to itself the Chamserops Palm grows in tufts, throw- 
ing out side shoots, and spreading in every direction. If 
these side shoots are cut off, the main stem rises to a 
height of from six to eight feet, but this it never does in 
a state of nature, always throwing out side shoots instead. 
This Palm covers the plain of the Mitidjah in most places, 
and extends high up into the mountains. Formerly it 
existed in the south of France, and it is still found wild in 
dense masses, in the south-east of Spain. It is the principal 
obstacle to the cultivation of the Mitidjah, as it can only 
be extirpated at an expense of SI. an acre, so deep and 
matted are its roots. Although an obstacle to agriculture, 
it is a great ornament to the landscape. The bulb of the 
maritime Squill, the Squill of druggists, varies from the 
size of the fist to that of a child's head, and it is perhaps 
the commonest plant in Algeria. It extends all over the 
country, up the highest mountains, in the driest, sandiest, 



KABYLIA — ITS VEGETATION. 531 

hottest regions, and passing over the Atlas descends into 
the Desert itself, where it is nearly the last plant seen. 
This fact corresponds with my experience of it at Mentone, 
where it grows vigorously on the hottest, driest rocks. It 
seems equally at home in sandy mica-schistic or calcareous 
soil. It is not used, being considered poisonous by the 
inhabitants. 

Rising gradually out of the plain we come to poor sandy 
soils, where I was reminded of the "maquis" of Corsica. 
Here were the Cistus or Rock Rose, the prickly Broom 
and the Cytisus, both in the full beauty of their yellow 
bloom ; the Lentiscus, also in flower, the Cork Oak, the 
Ilex or evergreen Oak, but not the Mediterranean Heath, 
and rarely the Myrtle. Wherever sand, sandstone, or mica- 
schist appeared near the surface throughout my travels, this 
peculiar vegetation also apppared in full luxuriance, trans- 
forming the hill-sides, as in Corsica and Sardinia, into a very 
garden of yellow, white, and rose blossoms. This same 
(c maquis," as we have seen, covers the Estrelle Mountains, 
near Cannes (mica-schist), and a small sandstone tertiary 
ridge in the Mentone amphitheatre (St a . Lucia), as well as 
Corsica and Sardinia, and evidently connects in a most re- 
markable way the vegetation of the South of Europe, and 
of the entire Mediterranean basin, with that of the North 
of Africa. It is the peculiar vegetation of the entire Atlas 
range wherever the soil is formed by the break-up of 
primary rock ; disappearing on calcareous formations. Its 
presence in wild luxuriance, and its general disappearance 
as soon as the nature of the soil becomes calcareous, 
although climate conditions are the same, is a remarkable 
illustration of the natural adaptability of plants to certain 
well-defined soils. Along with these plants also appeared 
in great profusion our garden flower, the Pheasant's Eye 
(Adonis) just coming into bloom. This plant is evidently 
a native, and, like the Silene pendula, then in full flower, 
is found everywhere in Algeria. 

The " maquis/' broussaille the French call it, gradually 
gave way to cultivation as we rose above the sea, pene- 
trating into the lower mountain ranges. The Kabyles, who 
inhabit these mountains, are numerous, and are a laborious 

M M 3 



532 ALGERIA. 

agricultural race,, tilling the ground with great skill and 
intelligence. Thej have only recently been subjugated by 
the French, and appear to have cultivated their country in 
this way from time immemorial. The mountain slopes 
and valleys, which constitute the Kabylia, are covered 
with much good and fertile soil; they are dotted with 
densely inhabited villages, and are a scene of universal 
luxuriance. Corn covers the slopes wherever the land 
admits of its being grown, and the Fig and Olive tree are 
seen everywhere. Sheltered from the north sea-breeze 
by the shore mountains or hills, both the Fig and Olive 
tree attain an enormous size, and are much finer than at 
Algiers. But the Olive is always seen on the south side 
of the hills, seldom or never on the north. The fruit of the 
Fig is one of the principal elements of food in the south, 
and, in a late famine, caused by a year's drought, and by a 
spring invasion of locusts from the Desert, it contributed 
to save the Kabyles. The first crop was destroyed by the 
locusts, but a second crop formed and was saved. Many 
Mountain Ashes are also seen, both in the Kabylia moun- 
tains and all over Algeria. This tree is evidently cultivated 
for its shade and its timber, but grows wild in the thickets. 
It seems very hardy, growing with as great luxuriance in 
the plains as at 5000 feet high on the sides of the Atlas, 
and does not appear particular as to soil. The Kabyles 
being good Mussulmans and not drinking wine, have not 
planted the Vine. It succeeds, however, very well in Algeria, 
and is planted wherever they go by the wine-drinking 
French. The Kabyle villages are generally surrounded 
with groves of the Opuntia, or Barbary Fig, which is 
found, except on the higher mountains, throughout Algeria. 
The streams and rivers are fringed on both sides by 
the Oleander, or Hose Laurel, and by the Tamarisk. The 
Oleander forms dense bushes, which are very lovely 
*vhen in flower. It lines, in more or less abundance, most 
of the mountain watercourses in the Atlas, becoming 
more and more luxuriant as we advance inland. The 
Tamarisk is its faithful companion, for they generally 
appear together ; on the more inland streams the Tama- 
risk becomes quite a tree. These two plants are evidently 



K AB YLIA — TIZI-OUZOU. 533 

indigenous to the country, as is our old and irrepressible 
friend the Blackberry, which here as elsewhere delights 
in all soils, in all altitudes, luxuriates in the plains at the 
foot of Mount Atlas, in the valleys on his side, ascends 
to his summit, and probably descends into the desert. I 
often saw it climbing over the Lentiscus and other bushes, 
and even entwining its branches among the prickles of the 
Barbaiy Fig, which no other plant or climber seemed 
audacious enough to do. This was more especially the 
case at Tizi-ouzou, where we stopped to dine and sleep the 
first dajr. There was a perfect forest of Opuntias round 
the Kabyle part of the village or town. The Smilax, the 
Clematis, the Wild Vine, are common, as on the Riviera 
and in the Mediterranean islands generally. I repeatedly 
found the Hawthorn in wild mountain regions, where it 
could not have been planted, except by birds, in full 
bloom ; birds scatter over large areas the seeds of the 
plants they feed on. 

The ascent from the plains which occupy the eastern 
shore of the Bay of Algiers is very slight until the pass 
of the Beni-Aicha is reached, thirty-two miles from 
Algiers. Here Kabylia begins, and the imposing mass of 
the Jurju'ra mountains meets the eye. Both the Romans 
and the Turks had a fortress in this position, as a defence 
against the inroads of the mountaineers. Two rivers, the 
Isser and the Djema, are crossed, as also the fertile but 
little cultivated plains through which they run, and the 
road gradually ascending reaches Tizi-ouzou, an important 
military station, sixty miles from Algiers. We arrived at 
six o'clock in the afternoon, having started at eight from 
Algiers, and having stopped an hour to lunch and to change 
horses at the Beni-Aicha pass. We found a tidy little 
hotel with clean beds, and whilst dinner was getting ready 
sallied forth to make our observations. 

Tizi-ouzou, like Beni-Aicha, was a military post in 
the days both of the Romans and of the Turks. It was 
their advanced post in Kabylia, and the Turkish fort, 
that occupies the brow of the hill on which the village 
stands, was built on Roman ruins. The French army 
took possession of it in 1855, greatly strengthened it, and 



534 ALGERIA. 

founded a military village in 1858. The fort has now all 
the buildings required for a garrison of a thousand men, 
and additional outworks protect the village so as to secure 
it from a surprise. The non-military population comprises 
about two hundred European innkeepers, tradespeople, 
and colonists. In the immediate vicinity of the French 
settlement there is still a populous Kabyle village, which 
we examined with interest. 

We were shown over it by a young Kabyle who volun- 
teeied his services, and found every one very civil and cor- 
dial, even the women showing but little shyness. They at 
first made a pretence of covering their faces with a corner 
of their wide sleeves, but soon gave it up laughingly, per- 
haps because we had ladies with us. Some of the younger 
women were really pretty, and looked quite graceful 
standing, reclining, or squatting at the entrance of their 
cabins. These cabins are built of stone and mortar, the 
better class roofed with tiles, the others thatched with canes. 
We went into several, and found them all erected on the 
same principle, the Eastern one, a courtyard inside, un- 
covered, into which opens the dwelling, and round which 
are outhouses and sheds, with no external windows or 
openings for ventilation. The interior was consequently 
very stuffy and close ; although clean, they were too badly 
ventilated to be healthy dwellings. 

The next day we started early, and in less than four 
hours reached the Fort Napoleon, passing through a 
rolling hilly district, the luxuriant vegetation of which I 
have already described, and within sight of many Kabyle 
villages. The Kabyles being sedentary and tied to the 
ground by ownership, every inch is cultivated, and scarcely 
a weed is to be seen. This fact explains the desperate 
energy with which they defended themselves in past and 
present times. They were fighting pro arts et focis, for 
their land, their homes, their wives, and their children ; 
driven away, they had no resources. They had neither 
horses, nor camels, nor tents, nor had they the habits of 
nomadic tribes. They could not take down their dwellings 
and fly before the enemy as the Arabs could ; so they 
fought to conquer or die. These mountaineers gave the 




KABYLE VILLAGE AND WOMEN, 



FORT NAPOLEON THE "BUREAU ATtABE." 535 

French more trouble than all the rest of Algeria put 
together, and it is only within the last ten years that they 
have been subjugated, and that they have acknowledged 
the French rule and authority. 

Fort Napoleon, seventy-five miles from Algiers, was built 
in 1857 by Marshal Randon, after a successful campaign in 
Kabylia. It occupies the brow of a mountain at an eleva- 
tion of 2700 feet, and consists of a wall with seventeen 
bastions surrounding an area of 6500 square feet. Within 
this area are all the buildings and appliances necessary for 
a garrison of several thousand men in case of need. It is 
in the centre of the richest and most populous part of 
Kabylia, and so effectually awed the mountaineers into 
submission that there were no rebellions after its construc- 
tion, until the year of the German war. 

These recently subdued outlying regions of Algeria are 
governed by what is called the Bureaux Arabes. Officers, 
masters of the Arab language, are entrusted with the 
management of certain districts with which they are ex- 
pected to make themselves thoroughly acquainted. They 
see to the levying of the tax or tribute, principally based 
on the payment by the owner of a certain fixed amount for 
each head of cattle. They also sit as judges in all civil and 
criminal cases, assisted by the heads of villages, who act 
as a kind of jury, each in turn. We made the acquaintance 
of the intelligent officer who was then acting as the head 
of the Bureau Arabe at Fort Napoleon, and obtained much 
interesting information from him. The position is clearly 
one of great trust and power, requiring discretion, judgment, 
activity, and firmness. He was constantly, he said, obliged to 
jump into the saddle, and to ride fifteen or twenty miles or 
more, to superintend in person the arrest of some criminal, or 
to find out fraud and deception. The Arabs and Kabyles, al- 
though most fawning and flattering in their speech to their 
conquerors, are full of secret animosity, have no regard 
whatever for truth, and think it a positive merit to deceive, 
in any way, both each other and their French masters. Each 
Kabyle village is governed by a council elected by universal 
suffrage yearly, and the council itself is presided by the 
djemma, or mayor, who is chosen by its members. All 



536 . ALGERIA. 

minor questions, and all subjects connected with government 
and discipline, are decided by this village parliament, without 
reference to the Bureau Arabe. But all serious matters are 
submitted to the latter, and any Kabyle who wishes is 
allowed to refer a grievance. 

I was told by my informant that it is the policy of the 
Government to leave to the Kabyles the management of 
their own affairs, but to punish crime and violence wherever 
it shows itself in their jurisdiction, having a due regard 
for the feelings and even the prejudices of those who sur- 
round them. Thus, a young Kabyle wife, brutalized by 
her husband, had recently run away with a soldier, and the 
husband had applied to Fort Napoleon for assistance to 
catch the fugitives. This was given, and they had the 
night previous been found and brought back to the Fort. 
The wife had been restored that morning to her husband, 
and the soldier put in prison to be judged and punished. 
The wife would unquestionably, I was informed, be shot on 
the way home by her Kabyle husband, in accordance with 
their customs, but the French authorities could not protect 
her without interfering with the domestic rights of the 
conquered people. The husband had a right to his runaway 
wife, so she was given up to him, regardless of consequences ! 
If a crime was committed, it would be punished later. 
It would appear that most of the assassinations and crimes 
against the person, in this country, have their origin in 
jealousy and quarrels about women, as in Corsica and Sar- 
dinia. The Kabyles are a more moral, as well as a more 
domestic, race than the Arabs, and seldom have more than 
one wife. If a wife tells her husband that any one has 
insulted her, he takes his gun and shoots the supposed 
offender without further inquiry. This custom gives a 
terrible power to the women, a power no doubt often 
misused. The Kabyles buy their wives for so many head of 
cattle, or so much money. Many of the young men expa- 
triate themselves, going to Algiers or the other plain towns 
to work as labourers until they have acquired the necessary 
sum. Then they return to their village, buy a wife, and 
settle down for life, just as mountaineers, Swiss, Auvergnats, 
and others act in Europe, excepting the wife-buying. 



THE JTJRJTJRA MOUNTAINS — AN ARAB FAIR. 537 

We were shown by the officer of the Bureau Arabe a large 
Government workshop where all kinds of mechanical trades 
are taught to Kabyle apprentices, carpentering, forging, 
cabinet work, blacksmith's and locksmith's work. The 
intention is to propagate a knowledge of these various 
handicrafts amongst the mountaineers, who have a natural 
ability for all kinds of mechanical labour ; in every village 
there are many who follow the various mechanical trades. 
The Kabyles are all Mussulmans, and like the Arabs, have 
amongst them many Marabouts, or holy men. The quality 
of Marabout is a family distinction which descends from 
father to son, and even the female members of these sacred 
families are treated with marked deference. These Marabout 
families have, probably, all originated with some sanctified 
individual who did not consider celibacy to be a necessary 
feature of his holiness. 

After resting a couple of hours at Fort Napoleon, we 
returned merrily to Tizi-ouzou, in little more than half 
the time we had taken to ascend. There is nothing pre- 
cipitous or difficult to surmount in this part of the Jurjura 
mountains. The elevated peaks, still covered with snow 
(April 20), the precipitous heights, the dark glens, are 
constantly in view, giving* grandeur to the scene, but 
they are further on, beyond the fort, which seems to 
be at their base, although nearly three thousand feet high. 

We again slept comfortably at Tizi-ouzou, and the next 
morning started betimes for the return to Algiers. At 
the junction of the road to Dellys, a town on the coast, 
we found an Arab fair, which gave us a good opportunity 
of studying the Arab type and Arab ways. These fairs 
are encouraged by the French authorities, and frequently 
take place at the principal stations ; we repeatedly came 
across them in our travels. Hundreds of Arabs come 
from all quarters, and tents, large and small, are raised for 
coffee drinking, and for the sale of all kinds of eatables 
or of articles of daily use. Cattle, horses, mules, and 
oxen change hands, sheep are slaughtered and sold, and 
a vast amount of quiet talking seemed to be going on. It 
is a singular sight, hundreds of swarthy, olive-laced, 
black-eyed Arabs, wrapped in their bournous, with turban 



538 ALGERIA. 

and sandals, gravely walking about, in their own country, 
it is true, but subdued, conquered, civilized by the hated 
Giaour. 

A little further on we came upon a caravan of Arabs 
and camels, stopping to refresh at a roadside inn. We had 
repeatedly met droves of from two to a dozen camels in the 
plains near Algiers, some heavily laden, others swinging 
along at a sharp trot, with the Arab driver perched high 
up on their backs. Nor did anything that we saw, not 
excepting the Palms of the Algiers Jardin d'Essai, give a 
more tropical and oriental hue to the country we were in. 
On this occasion we got out of the carriage, mounted the 
camels, the latter kneeling for our ascent and descent, and 
tried their walk and trot. We were, however, very glad to 
get down again ; the height from the ground is too great 
to be pleasant, and the motion is anything but agreeable. 

That evening we were again at our comfortable quarters 
in Algiers, having accomplished the journey to Fort 
Napoleon and back, 125 kilometres each way (150 miles 
in all), easily and pleasantly in three days. 

The next morning I devoted to a last ramble in the 
old streets of Algiers, and saw the Kasbah or Dey's palace, 
a wretched barn-like place. We were shown a little 
wooden room at the top of the house, looking on the 
inner court, where the Dey gave to the French consul 
the fatal tap with a fan which led to his downfall, to the 
destruction of the power of the Turks in Algeria, and to 
the establishment of the sway of a European and Christian 
nation over a great part of the north coast of Africa. 
Thus it is that great things have often small beginnings. 

We started that afternoon for the excursion to Teniet-el- 
Had and the Cedar forest, on the frontiers of the Algerine 
Desert, leaving Algiers with regret. 

ALGIERS TO BLIDAH, MILTANAH, TENTET-EL-HAAD, AND THE 
CEDAR FOREST. 

The railroad from Algiers to Blidah turns round the 
eastern extremity of the Sahel hills, a few miles from the 
town, skirts their southern base for about fifteen miles, and 



THE MITIDJAH — BLIDAH. 539 

then crosses the Mitidjah. The Mitidjah is the low plain 
comprised between the Sahel or coast hills, and the foot 
of the Little Atlas range. It was the seat of exuberant 
fertility in the days of the Romans, but subsequent 
possessors allowed it to fall into a state of nature. The 
rainfall of the mountains which limit it to the south, pre- 
vented by the Sahel hills from passing directly to the sea, 
formerly saturated its entire extent, and made it an un- 
healthy marsh. But since the French took possession of 
Algiers they have been steadily draining and reclaiming 
this really fertile plain, at great expenditure of money and 
life, and have succeeded in rendering a considerable portion 
of it, especially the higher ground near Bliclah, both fertile 
and healthy. 

As soon as the railroad has placed the Sahel hills 
between it and the north, the advantage of protection is 
at once apparent. The Olive trees are more numerous 
and finer, Orange and Lemon trees appear, and it becomes 
clear that, with cultivation, a much more luxuriant and 
southern vegetation can be obtained on this, the southern 
slope of the Sahel, than is seen on the northern or Alge- 
rine. The plain, part scrub (Chamserops, Lentiscus, 
Cistus, Squill), part cultivated, is crossed by a gentle rise 
towards the base of the Atlas, until Blidah is reached at 
an elevation of about 500 feet. Protected from the wind 
of the Desert, or scirocco, by the Atlas, from all northern 
winds by the Sahel, on rising ground which prevents 
stagnation of moisture, with good deep soil, and abundance 
of water for irrigation, Blidah (lat. 36°), and that part of 
the Mitidjah which surrounds it, present every necessary 
element of fertility, and have become, since the French 
occupation, a very garden or orchard of agricultural pro- 
ducts — cereals, grasses, Vines, fruit trees. It is here 
for the first time that the Orange tree appears in real 
luxuriance. There are groves, thickets of Orange trees, 
some several hundred years old, covering nearly 300 acres 
of ground, and producing excellent fruit. But even here 
these orchards are protected from north winds by walls of 
tall pyramidal Cypresses a foot apart. The Oranges are 
renowned all over Algeria and France, and their very 



540 ALGERIA. 

superior quality shows that the Orange tree is capable of 
being cultivated anywhere in the lower plains of Algeria 
with success, always provided it be protected from north 
winds, or indeed any wind, and that there be present good 
soil and water. This is the only point of Algeria where I 
found any Orange trees to be compared in point of size or 
beauty with those of the sun-warmed and sheltered Genoese 
Riviera. Elsewhere they are only met with as isolated 
specimens, and these seldom* in a flourishing state. At 
Algiers, if of any size, they are hidden behind houses, 
and planted in well-like declivities ; evidently the winter 
north winds are too much for them. The Lemon trees 
are also numerous and healthy at Blidah, but neither as 
large nor as luxuriant as on the north shore of the Riviera, 
about Monaco, Men tone, and San Remo. At Blidah I 
saw, as at Algiers, many healthy Aloes planted along the 
roadside, but they are not often met with away from 
Algiers. 

From Blidah I made an excursion to the valley of the 
Chiffa, a most picturesque cleft or deep ravine in the first 
Atlas range, through which pass the Chiffa river and 
the military road to Medeah. This deep and narrow 
valley, with its small river brawling at the bottom, some 
fifty feet below the road, with sides 1500 feet high, is most 
picturesque, and resembles the description given of the 
Abyssinian valleys traversed by our troops in the late war. 
The road was made by soldiers, like most others in 
Algeria, and was a very difficult undertaking. About three 
miles from the entrance is a tributary stream, roaring 
down a side valley, which I visited with intense interest. 
The sides of the main valley are clothed more or less 
densely, according to the degree of acclivity, with the 
Chamserops Palm, Lentiscus, Broom, Cytisus, Wild Olive, 
Carouba, Cork Oak, Ilex, Aleppo Pine ; whilst the bed of 
the stream is fringed with Oleander, Tamarisk, and Willow 
then in full leaf. The vegetation of the tributary gorge, 
called the Monkey Torrent from the number of monkeys 
that inhabit it, is still more luxuriant. In addition 
to the trees and shrubs named I found the Weeping 
Willow, Thuja articulata, Laurus Apollo, Celtis australis, 



VALLEY OF CHIFFA — VEGETATION— MONKEYS. 541 

Viburnum longifolium, Erica arborea, all freely watered 
by an abundant stream of crystal water rushing over the 
rocks, and bound in one inextricable mass by a host of 
climbing" plants, Wild Vine, Clematis, Smilax, Blackberry, 
and last in order, although first in beauty, in power, and 
in wild luxuriance, the large-leaved African Ivy. 

This ivy had grown with such vigour in these favourable 
conditions of heat, moisture, and shade, that his trunk 
was often as large as that of the tree that he embraced. 
In such cases he appeared to take complete possession of 
the tree which gave him support, to clothe every branch 
with thick masses of dark glistening verdure, hanging in 
green loops and in masses of foliage, from limb to limb, 
until the identity of the supporting tree was absolutely 
lost in the luxuriant garb of his clinging friend. Indeed, 
one could not but reflect that there is such a thing as 
being actually overpowered, smothered, by the affectionate 
clinging of a friend. Next in luxuriance, without any 
doubt, was the Blackberry, which seemed equally to revel 
in this lovely gorge, creating such masses of branches and 
foliage that they sometimes choked the ravine. 

The African Ivy is a valuable variety, for although 
thus delighting in moisture and shade, it can stand the 
glare of a fierce southern sun and feel comfortable. It is 
being extensively adopted in the gardens of the Riviera 
on that account. Under the shade of these shrubs and 
trees, and under that of the classical Acanthus, I found 
for the first time in Algeria banks of Lycopodium, and 
quite a collection of ferns ; among others Scolopendrium, 
Asplenium Adiantum-nigrum, A. Trichomanes, A. fon- 
tanum, and Gramitis. In the centre of this happy valley 
there was a small experimental Tea plantation, established 
two years ago by Government. The plants were alive, 
but did not look very flourishing. The gardener in charge, 
however, was satisfied with his success, and was about to 
put out a large number of additional plants which had 
been raised in frames during the winter at Blidah. As an 
instance of the exuberant growth of plants in this warm, 
sheltered, and moist valley he showed me a Eucalyptus 
globulus that had grown thirty feet in two years. 



542 ALGERIA. 

I and my companions, who had accompanied me from 
Blidah, after visiting the ravine, had a very enjoyable 
repast at the little inn at the entrance, al fresco, in a pretty 
arbour. We dined to the murmur of the torrent and 
amidst the chattering of the monkeys, who did not show 
themselves, however, having retired for the night. They 
are the same kind of monkeys that inhabit the Gibraltar 
rocks, and are not common even in Algeria. 

The next stage was a drive of about forty miles direct 
west, through the Mitidjah at first, and then over two or 
three low spurs and ridges of the Atlas to Milianah, a 
rather pretty little town, situated 2700 feet above the sea, 
on an esplanade on the southern slope of a mountain at 
least as many feet higher. Here was again evidenced 
the advantage of protection from the north, and of expo- 
sure to the south, vice considerable altitude. At Milianah, 
at an elevation which, even in this latitude, allows snow to 
lie and ice to form in winter, vegetation was more advanced, 
owing to the southern exposure, than at Algiers. In the 
public garden all kinds of Roses, the perpetual or hybrid, 
as well as Banksia, multiflora, monthly, and Bengal, were 
in full and luxuriant bloom, which was by no means the 
case at Algiers. A Chromatella Rose was covered with 
hundreds of large blossoms, and had climbed all over a 
tree to a height of thirty feet ; I saw nothing like it in 
any part of Algeria. Various other garden flowers were 
equally in advance. From the terrace of this garden, 
looking full south, we saw on the horizon, on the other 
side of a plain fifteen miles across, and 1000 feet below us, 
the middle range of the Atlas mountains, rising in three 
successive tiers. Beyond them was the great Algerine 
Desert, which I intended at least to look at from the 
summit of one of these mountains, as I had not time to 
explore it. Here, too, we found tolerable quarters and a 
cordial reception. 

Early on the morning of the 25th, descending 1000 feet, 
we crossed the rich valley of the Cheliff, which takes its 
name from the river so called. As stated, this river is a 
singular feature in the geography of Algeria. It rises in 
the last chain of the Atlas, on the north borders of the 



MILIANAH — THE CHELIFF PLAIN. 543 

Algerine Desert, thus showing how elevated the " Hauts 
Plateaux" are, passes through a cleft or gorge in the 
Middle Atlas, runs through the wide valley which takes its 
name, and finally throws itself into the Mediterranean east 
of Oran, after a course of ] 60 miles. It thus offers a 
circuitous funnel, or passage, by which the wind of the 
Desert, the south-east or scirocco, can and does pass right 
through the mountains until it reaches the fertile plains of 
the provinces of Algiers and Oran. Here its scorching 
breath in May or June occasionally destroys in one day or 
night the most magnificent crops. 

As we descended from Milianah on its south side we 
found most luxuriant cultivation — rich orchards of Almond, 
Pear, Cherry, Mulberry trees, as well as the usual Fig, and 
abundance of pure water. At first I thought Milianah. 
would make a good winter sanitarium; for the town is 
clean, with wide streets, and the view, both north and 
south, enchanting : but then there is the chance of a 
scirocco at any time from the south, even in winter, and of 
rain and snow from the north. The plain is evidently a 
mine of agricultural wealth, as evinced by the depth of the 
alluvial soil, shown in the furrows made by the water- 
courses. The cultivated patches of cereals, numerous near 
Milianah, scanty as we receded, were very vigorous and 
healthy, in full ear. There were no trees but those recently 
planted along the road — -Acacia and Carouba, which were 
doing well. After crossing the Cheliff plain, about fifteen 
miles in width, we began to ascend the ranges of the 
Middle Atlas, the road winding through deep valleys and 
over easy ridges. In one of these valleys we stopped at a 
caravansail called Anseur-el-Louza, to lunch and change 
horses. These caravansails are fortified stations, or farms, 
which are built at intervals along all the roads that lead 
southwards. They are military posts, as well as farms and 
inns for travellers, and in the days of war, now happily 
past, were strongly garrisoned. The buildings occupy 
one, two, or three sides of a large square, which is com- 
pleted by a high loopholed wall. There are no windows, 
the only entrance being by a wide portal in the centre. 
Thus shelter can be given to flocks of cattle as well as to 



544 ALGERIA. 

men. Even now, although peace reigns, there is a guard 
kept in each caravansail. 

In the immediate vicinity were a numher of military 
tents belonging to a company of soldiers, working as con- 
victs on the road and bridge making. Many, evidently, 
from their fair skin and hair, were natives of the northern 
provinces of France. Insubordinate and troublesome 
soldiers in France are exiled to Algeria, and there, if still 
unruly, are thus sent in gangs to work on the roads in the 
interior. I could not but pity them, although most of 
them looked like caged hysenas. They were, probably, the 
scapegraces of their families, who not being able to bear 
social restraints at home, had taken refuge in the army, 
there to find, not indulgence, kindness and concession, as 
heretofore, but an iron discipline to which they must bend 
or be themselves broken. One of these men helped me to 
gather some branches to put over the carriage to shade it 
from the sun. I asked him what he had done to be there. 
He answered, " I have done nothing to speak of, but 
they are ferocious out there" — " Us sont feroces la has" 
pointing to Algiers. I gave him good advice, urged him 
to submit, pointing out his utter helplessness before the 
law and his military superiors. This poor convict soldier 
gave utterance to a feeling which I have often thought 
must oppress those who have seriously infringed the laws 
of the land in which they live. Once found out, there is 
no escape but by flight, for the law is truly inexorable. 
And then the flight ! how terrible, when every man's hand 
is against the culprit, when danger is everywhere. It is 
not surprising that many should, after a time, surrender 
themselves of their own accord. 

We stopped more than an hour at the caravansail, and 
lunched under the shadow of a wild Olive tree. The 
shade was very agreeable, for the sun was ardent, and a 
wind had risen from the south since we left Milianah, 
blowing direct from the Desert, now very near. To our 
surprise we found the thermometer marking 94°, for 
although very hot, owing to the dryness of the air 5 the 
heat was not so oppressive as it is in England when the 
thermometer marks 84°. But it manifested its influence 



VALLEY OF THE SCORPION'S — TENIET. 545 

on the economy by profuse perspiration on the slightest 
effort, or even without. The locality was very picturesque, 
a small alluvial plain, growing luxuriant crops of clover and 
barley, with a stream of crystal water, some ten feet wide, 
meandering at the bottom of the valley in a thicket of 
Tamarisk and Oleander. On each side were the slopes of 
the mountain ridges, sandstone and gravel, covered with 
rock Roses in flower, Maritime Pines, and Thuja. In 
the middle, the square fortified station, loopholed for 
musketry, with the white bell tents of the convict soldiers, 
and of their guard. 

Here we sat for some time reclining on the grass, as if 
we had been in England, for there was grass on the shady 
side of the tree, and feeling intensely the strangeness of 
our situation, in the bosom of the Atlas Mountains, within 
a few miles of the great and mysterious Desert. I doubt, 
however, whether we were prudent in thus lying among 
the brushwood in northern fashion, for after a time, my 
American friend espied something moving under some 
twigs, and on a nearer survey, we found that it was a large 
scorpion. He at once seized a stone, and incontinently 
smashed him, whereon the ladies declared that it was time 
to depart. We carried enemies away with us, however, 
very venomous ants I believe, for I and another of the 
party were so severely bitten that it took weeks to efface 
the stigmates. We were told by our driver that this valley 
was so renowned for the size and number of the scorpions 
that inhabit it, that it is called "the valley of the 
scorpions \" 

The road continued to ascend and descend mountain 
ridges and spurs for some hours more, nntil we reached 
our destination at the head of the pass in the last range, 
Teniet-el-Had. The rocks and soil from the Cheliff 
plain to this station are everywhere sandstone, gravel, and 
mica-schist, and the vegetation is all but identical with 
that of the same soils in Corsica — Lentiscus, Arbutus, 
Ilex, Cork, Oak, very large wild Olives, Aleppo Pine, 
Juniper, Genista, Cytisus, Mountain Lavender, Cistus, 
white and rose, Willow, Smilax, Mountain Ash, Asphodel, 
Ferula, Scilla maritima ; Chamserops, Thuja articulata ; 

N N 



546 ALGERIA. 

Oleander and Tamarisk, fringing the rivers or torrents. 
We greatly enjoyed our leisurely progress through this 
lovely mountain scenery, despite the glow of a southern 
sun, and the most oppressive heat of the scirocco.- Our 
attention was repeatedly attracted by large grasshopper- 
like locusts, which flew across our path, and even into the 
carriage. 

Teniet-el-Had is a fortified military outpost and station, 
occupied by a garrison of 3000 men — 1000 cavalry, 2000 
infantry — by the settlers who minister to their wants, and 
by a few farmers or colonists, as the French call them. I 
estimated it to be 4000 feet high by the barometer. It is 
situated on a neck or pass of the Middle Atlas, from which 
the road descends into the Algerine Sahara, or the Desert 
of Angad. The Atlas peaks in the vicinity ascend nearly 
2000 feet higher. The village itself presents nothing 
remarkable, merely consisting of barracks, stores, a few 
one-storeyed houses, occupied by the tradesmen, and a very 
inferior inn. The owner is a prosperous colonist, who has 
a large corn farm five miles further south towards the 
Desert, the last agricultural settlement belonging to an 
European. Teniet is the centre of the French military 
power in this region, and the support of the garrisons in 
the oases, and of the flying columns in the Desert due 
south. There are similar stations all along the more 
southern ridges of the Atlas, such as Biskra, Boghar, 
Tiaret, Sai'da. 

A couple of miles to the west of Teniet there rises a noble 
mountain peak, at least 1600 feet higher, the flanks of which 
are covered by a magnificent Cedar forest, much larger and 
finer, I am told, than that which clothes Mount Lebanon. 
We determined to devote a day to the forest, and after 
•an early breakfast started in our carriage, with some mis- 
giving, as we were told that the road, a mere cart road for 
timber, was scarcely practicable to a carriage. However, 
we managed in about three hours to accomplish twelve 
miles, which brought the road to a termination in the very 
heart of this truly mighty forest. The road ended in a 
woodland amphitheatre, surrounded by magnificent Cedar 
trees, carpeted by a velvet turf worthy of Erin, with a 



THE CEDAR FOREST. 547 

small pellucid lake in the centre. Here we found a party 
of French officers from Teniet, enjoying a picnic breakfast, 
and were most hospitably received by them. 

Between us and the summit, however, between us and 
the view of the Desert, there was still a mountain peak, 
1200 feet above where we were. None of the officers, or 
of the workmen and timber-cutters had been up it, there 
was no road, and the sides of the mountain were very 
steep. But we were determined not to go back without 
seeing the Desert from the top of Mount Atlas, and 
bravely commenced the ascension. Even I managed to 
scramble up, in due course, by holding the barometer in 
one hand and resting five minutes every hundred feet of 
ascent. Although the mountain sides were clothed with 
successive stages of grand Cedars, we found the ascent 
very difficult. Once at the summit, we were amply re- 
warded for our trouble and fatigue, as a most glorious sight 
was unfolded to our view. To the north were the grand 
old Cedars covering the mountain flanks, the two lower 
ridges we had crossed the day before, the plain of the 
Cheliff, and the high mountain on the south side of which 
Milianah is situated ; to the south the Desert. 

The Cedar trees at our feet, to the north, were most 
venerable and majestic, and rose in successive layers or 
stages over an immense extent of the mountain side, as far 
as the eye could reach east and west ; for they cover an 
area of 6000 acres. As they grow old they spread out their 
upper branches so as to present a regular table of verdure 
when seen from above. Many of these green table-like 
summits, formed by single trees, appeared large enough 
to admit of a company of soldiers bivouacking on them. 
Some, cut and lying on the ground, we measured, and 
found that they were from twenty-four feet to thirty feet 
in circumference, or from eight to ten feet in diameter. 
The forest belongs to Government, and many trees are being 
cut down to make sleepers for the railway, a rather sacri- 
legious use for massive beams of Cedar wood. 

The ground underneath was enamelled with flowers : 
Hyacinths, Narcissus, Buttercups, Roses, Daisies, Pansies \ 
whilst the Honeysuckle and Bramble grew vigorously, 

V N 2 



548 ALGERIA. 

often from cavities in old Cedars. Perhaps the seeds of 
these plants, the Hawthorn for instance, may have been 
brought by some bird of passage from the far north, 
for I recognised the note of birds that regularly visit the 
Pine woods of Surrey during the summer. Snow still 
filled the ravines, 200 or 800 feet from the summit, whilst 
the thermometer, even at Teniet, was 86° when we left. 
We heard the cuckoo sing, and saw many jays and ravens. 
There were many deciduous Oaks of considerable size, 
just beginning to put forth their new leaves. In a word, 
whilst sitting under the shade of the Cedars, and looking 
into the Great Desert of Sahara, we were surrounded by 
the vegetation of an English wood in May, and at the 
summit enjoyed the delightful coolness of an English 
spring. The soil was a deep rich leaf-mould, the result of 
vegetable decay for thousands of years. On passing it 
through my hand I most ardently wished I had an unlimited 
supply of it in my rocky garden at Mentone. What 
Camellias, Azaleas, and Rhododendrons I could then raise ! 

When turning from the north we gazed south, we saw at 
our feet a gentle mountain slope, of about a thousand feet, 
covered with scrubby Dwarfed Ilex, then gently undulating 
plains green with grass and cereals, then a green plain 
perfectly flat, and then, about ten miles beyond us, the real 
Algerine Sahara, or the Desert of the High Plains (Hauts 
Plateaux), a level yellow sea of sand. On the far off 
southern horizon, about fifty or sixty miles distant, was a 
low ridge of mountains, the Great Atlas, the last mountain 
chain, and the northern limit of the Great Desert, which 
extends to Soudan, to Timbuctoo, to Senegal, to the Niger ! 
The abundant winter and spring rains, precipitated by old 
Atlas, had clothed even the high plains which form the 
margin of the Desert with verdure, but all tree vegetation 
ceased a thousand feet below where we were standing, 
except in the beds of torrents or rivers, or in the oases. 

The rain which falls abundantly in winter on the ridges 
of Mount Atlas, and even on the limestone hills south of 
the Atlas, in the northern regions of the Great Desert 
(see map), gives rise to torrents and rivers in winter, 
which flow down the slopes of the mountains and hills, 



THE DESERT — THE DATE PALM. 549 

north and south, to lose themselves in the sands, or in 
shallow salt lakes. Often these torrents, although lost to 
the eye in the sands, are running their course at some 
distance underground, and reappear as springs, or terminate 
in the lakes or Schotts above mentioned. An oasis is a 
spot which a torrent or river irrigates, or where these 
springs or underground rivers appear at the surface, or can 
be reached by wells. Nearly all surface waters, torrents, 
rivers, springs, even the shallow lakes, apparently disappear 
during the summer. I say apparently, because water is 
generally to be found underground, more or less near the 
surface, in these northern regions of the Great Desert, due, 
no doubt, to the watershed of the Atlas. Wherever it can 
be reached, even by deep wells all the year round, vegeta- 
tion becomes possible and trees nourish, especially the Date 
Palm, as also various fruit trees, such as the Apricot, the 
Peach, the Pomegranate, and all kinds of vegetables. 

The tree that constitutes the riches of the Desert, that 
thrives the best, and that more especially characterizes its 
sandy plains beyond the Great Atlas, for it does not grow 
in the Hauts Plateaux, is the Date Palm. It flourishes and 
ripens its fruit in the most sterile sands — in sands all but 
devoid of alluvial soil — if it can get water. Nor is it 
particular as to the kind of water ; saline water, that even 
the Arabs cannot drink, agreeing with it perfectly. In 
Algeria proper, once the city of Algiers has been left, the 
Palm is scarcely ever seen. It is not a feature of the land- 
scape, as is generally supposed and stated. No doubt it 
would grow very well in any of the lower plains of Algeria, 
but I believe it does not ripen its fruit out of the Desert, 
the climate being too moist and cold in winter, so that 
there was and is but little inducement to the inhabitants 
to plant it. In partly civilized or colonized regions very 
little is done for the ornamental, and the trees and shrubs 
that have not a direct practical purpose to serve are seldom 
seen, except in a wild state. As previously stated, the Date 
Palm is infinitely more common in the south-east of Spain 
as a relic of the Moorish civilization of former days than in 
Algeria, north of the Atlas. There must be a great dif- 
ference in the winter climate of the oases of the Desert and 



550 



ALGERIA. 



in that even of the valley of the Cheliff, the warmest valley 
in Algeria, for cereals are ripe and garnered in March in 
the oases, whereas I found them only just turning colour 
at the end of April in the Cheliff plain, near Orleansville, 
the hottest part of the valley. 

The sands of the Desert are siliceous, but contain, as we 
have seen, a good deal of lime, which seems to be the kind 




THE DESERT — A PALM OASIS. 



of soil that suits the Date Palm the best. Thus, the soil 
of the Jardin d'Essai at Algiers is composed of loam mixed 
with sand, formed by the break-up of granite and calcareous 
mica-schist, whence, no doubt, one reason why it succeeds 
so well with the Palm tribe, which certainly seems to prefer 
such soils. On the Genoese Riviera at Bordighera, where 
the Date Palm is more luxuriant in growth and numbers 



THE VEGETATION OF THE DESERT. 551 

than in any region of Algeria that 1 have seen on the north 
side of the Atlas — the Algiers Jardin d'Essai excepted — 
the soil is a mixture of siliceous sand and of calcareous loam, 
the coast rocks being calcareous. The Roya River, which 
conies down the valley of that name from the Col de Tende, 
where the mountains are granitic, has brought, in the course 
of ages, enough sand to form at its outlet several miles of 
sandy delta, or alluvium, which extends to the Bordighera 
Palm groves. Not that Palms will not succeed well in other 
soils, for they thrive in the purely calcareous soils of Nice 
and Mentone, but they certainly appear to grow most 
luxuriantly where sand is combined with lime. Such is 
also the case, as we have seen, on the east coast of Spain, 
at Elche especially which must be the counterpart of a 
Palm oasis in the Desert. 

Beyond the mountain chain of the Middle Atlas on which 
we stood there are even but few shrubs out of these areas 
of natural irrigation. The last to disappear are the 
Pistacia Terebinthinus, the Lentiscus, and the Jujube or 
Zizyphus Spina Christi. This latter plant shows itself 
everywhere in Algeria; in winter it is a mass of slender, 
naked, thorny branches, twined in and in, and lying on the 
ground, like dead brambles. When spring arrives it throws 
out a profusion of pale green leaves, which conceal its thorns. 
We found it in the Mitidjah, it followed us to Mount Atlas, 
and we were told that, with the Squill, it was almost the 
last to disappear in the Desert. It is clearly the thorn of 
Solomon : " as the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is 
the laughter of fools." 

The descent of Mount Atlas occupied us very much less 
time than the ascent. We were sorry to leave the grand 
Cedar forest, even to return to the " Corsican maquis 
vegetation" on the gravel ridges around Teniet, beautiful 
as it is at this time of the year, with its myriads of flowers, 
among which predominate the profuse yellow spikes of the 
Broom and Cytisus. We were told on our return that we 
had been imprudent to wander so far from the haunts of 
man, as lions, panthers, and wild boars still haunt these 
mountain forests, although in rapidly diminishing numbers. 
We had been in happy ignorance of all possible danger, so 



552 ALGERIA. 

merely laughed at the risks run, which gave additional zest 
to our view of the Desert. We were all of us, the ladies 
especially, most anxious to pursue our journey into the 
real Sahara Desert, but we had not time. Moreover, with 
the thermometer at 86°, 4000 feet above the sea, I thought 
it imprudent to venture further south, so we reluctantly 
decided to retrace our steps. 

The next morning, April 26th, I was awakened at five 
in the morning by the beating of drums, the blowing of 
bugles, and all the sounds of war. As Teniet is an outpost 
of the French army on the borders of the Desert, I thought 
it was some review or military ceremony. On rising, how- 
ever, I heard that news had arrived in the night that an 
army of locusts were marching on, along the road, from 
the Desert, towards the pass, and that a thousand soldiers 
had started as soon as it was daylight to meet the enemy ! 
It appears that the locust?, when they invade Algeria 
from the Desert, make for the passes through the Atlas, 
and if there is a road follow it, camping regularly at night. 
The locusts we had met on our journey, two days before, 
were no doubt the pioneers, the advanced guard of the 
main army, now in full march. The troops were to 
endeavour to force them back in the day by noise and 
with branches of trees, and at night to make deep holes 
in the ground, sweep them in, and bury them. I left 
the same day, and heard no more on the subject. But 
later, whilst in Spain, I learnt that the locusts succeeded 
in crossing the Atlas, and spread over the fertile valleys of 
the.Oheliff, doing much damage, and destroying many of 
the magnificent crops which had everywhere met my gaze ; 
as they had done three years before. Thus the French 
soldiers, whom I saw going out to fight this apparently 
contemptible enemy, must have failed in their efforts, and 
have been signally defeated. They could conquer the 
Kabyles, the Arabs, the wild denizens of the Desert, but 
they were conquered in their turn by an army of grass- 
hoppers ; a singular history. 

The return journey to Milianah was successfully per- 
formed in a day. The scirocco had gone, the temperature 
had fallen to 70°, and both I and my American friends 



MILIAR AH AS A SANITARIUM. 553 

greatly enjoyed the drive. An intellectual and well- 
informed inquiring friend, like the one whose companion- 
ship I had, is a most valuable adjunct to the kind 
of journey we were making. Constant questions and 
debatable opinions thrown out, on both sides, sharpen the 
wits and enlarge the field of observation. Such com- 
munion tends to strengthen and give a form to ideas that 
might otherwise have remained dormant, or have been 
only half formed in the mind's recesses. We again 
lunched at the caravansail, but this time on the hard 
ground, far away from scorpions and venomous ants. As 
we approached Milianah it appeared a most fascinating 
sojourn, perched up on a ledge of the mountain, a thousand 
feet above the plain, with a protecting screen from the 
north nearly two thousand feet high behind it. I cannot 
but think that notwithstanding the occasional breath of 
the Desert from the south, and an occasional fall of snow 
from the north, it must be a delightful winter residence. 
Then it could be made a centre for excursions to the 
Desert and to the oases that we only saw at a distance. I 
do not advise any very great invalid to try it, but a 
person merely weary of town civilization, and slightly 
failing in general health, might certainly test its climate in 
perfect safety. At Milianah, also, there are all the resources 
of a French town — good French society, and plenty to 
eat and drink; we had comfortable rooms, and fared 
very well whilst there. We had left one member of our 
party behind, a gentleman who did not feel well enough 
to venture on " the unknown" when we started. I pro- 
posed to him to winter there next season, but having been 
condemned to silence for three days from ignorance of 
the French language, he said he had had quite enough of 
Milianah, pretty as it is, for the rest of his life, and that I 
must look out for some other victim. 

MILIANAH TO ORAN. 

The last part of Algeria that I examined was the valley 
of the Cheliff, from Milianah to Oran, about 150 miles 
from east to west. The first day we drove to Orleansville ; 



554 ALGERIA. 

the second to Reliziano, the point then reached by the 
railway from Oran to Algiers; the third day we took the 
railway to Oran. 

On leaving Milianah we again descended into the valley 
of the ChelifF by the road we had twice traversed, but on 
arriving at the river, turned to the west instead of crossing 
the valley as before. Here we found the railway works 
rapidly advancing. From Blidah, where we had lefb it, 
the rail passes the Little Atlas by a break or deep valley, 
emerges on the valley of the ChelifF near Milianah, and 
follows its course for more than two-thirds of the distance 
to Oran. The high road also follows the river and the 
wide and fertile valley through which it runs. 

Soon after our departure from Milianah the geological 
character of the mountains changed, they became calca- 
reous, rising on both sides of the valley in gentle sweeps 
1000 or 2000 feet high, with higher ridges of the same 
character behind, both northwards to the sea, and south- 
wards towards the Desert. The valley itself contained a 
bed of vegetable soil, ten, twenty, or thirty feet deep, 
resting on limestone or gravel. Gradually, as the geological 
formation changed, so did the vegetable. Nearly all the 
plants so common on the sandstone, gravel, and schistic 
soils, from the Chamserops to the Cistus, became less fre- 
quent, then sparse, and ultimately disappeared. The 
Jujube Thorn alone remained, and here in a lower lati- 
tude, and later in the season, it had become covered with 
fresh green leaves, and was quite an elegant shrub, instead 
of a mass of apparently dead thorns. The hill-sides ceased 
to grow trees, with the exception of a few small Ilex or 
wild Olive, sparsely scattered. The rich alluvial plain 
was a mere rolling prairie or steppe covered with rank 
herbage and with wild flowers where not cultivated ; there 
was not a tree to be seen for miles. Along the road and 
near the villages were some farms, and here and there 
the Arabs had tilled and cultivated patches of corn. 
Wherever the labour of man had broken the ground most 
exuberant fertility had followed, and the trees he had 
planted near farms and small villages — Mulberry, Carouba, 



LUXURIANCE OF THE CHELIFF VALLEY. 555 

Acacia, Plane, Orange, Apricot, Peach — all seemed to 
thrive and flourish. 

The puzzle to me was, and is, why does not Nature do 
her own planting in these rich alluvial plains, as elsewhere, 
as on the sandy schistic rocks ? The grasses were two or 
three feet deep, and mingled with myriads of flowers, 
Corn-flowers of various kinds, Ox-eyed Daisies, Dandelions, 
Buttercups, Pheasant's Eye, Marigolds, Vetches, Wild 
Peas, Mustard, Convolvulus (major and minor), Thistles, 
Mallows of various species. These flowers were not disse- 
minated here and there, but growing in masses, knee-deep, 
as if artificially planted, until their bloom coloured the 
ground for miles. The fields of Wheat, the bearded variety, 
were turning colour, and were rendered scarlet by masses 
of Corn Poppy. Here, on every side, was evidence of abun- 
dant winter and spring rains, which had brought to life 
and fostered so much luxuriance, and which would do the 
same were cereals or grasses planted by man. But I 
was told, that in six weeks there would not be a blade of 
grass left, that all would be burnt up by the summer sun 
and heat, and that there was no remedy, as there was no 
available water in the country. That of the river is not 
good, and is not easily attainable, for it runs in a canal or 
furrow often thirty feet deep, worn in the alluvial soil. 
The wells, although from fifty to eighty feet deep, do not 
always reach good water. So, for want of irrigation, the 
land has to be left to itself until winter rains return in 
November; the Government has plans for artificial irriga- 
tion on a large scale under consideration. 

It is easy to understand why the sides of a limestone 
hill should not be clothed with timber, for the roots of most 
trees and shrubs cannot and will not pierce limestone, 
as they can and will pierce sand, gravel, sandstone, or 
schistic shales. But it is difficult to understand why the 
seeds of trees dropped by birds, or carried by the wind, 
into the crevices of good deep soil, cracked by summer 
heat, and well watered for months in winter, should not 
germinate and grow, as they do when planted by man. 
Yet, as in the American prairies, in Algeria we see this 



556 ALGERIA. 

plain of the Cheliff, 200 miles long and from ten to thirty- 
wide, with its deep rich loam profusely watered for six 
months of the year, all but entirely devoid of spontaneously 
grown trees or shrubs. 

During these days of pleasant travel I often sat near 
the drivers, and obtained a great deal of valuable informa- 
tion from them. The Messagerie " authorities" at Algiers 
treated us throughout with great consideration. Not only 
did they provide us with a comfortable carriage, and 
frequent relays of horses, but they told off their inspectors 
to drive us. The first called me " Milord/' and on my 
telling him that I had no claim to such a dignified appella- 
tion, he said that he thought we must be at least " Milords/' 
as he and his colleagues were never called upon to drive any 
but the Governor. We profited, however, by the error, for 
we generally had the very best horses the stables could 
afford, and flew along the roads, nearly always good, each 
day arriving at our destination an hour or two before the 
time fixed. 

The horses driven were always of pure Arab breed, and 
showed a speed and endurance that quite surprised us ; 
they seemed to think nothing of twenty or thirty miles at 
the full trot. I was told that with a light carriage they 
could easily do sixty or seventy miles a day. One of the 
inspectors said he had repeatedly driven one of the horses 
then in the carriage a hundred and forty miles in two days 
in a light gig. Every kind of European horse has been 
tried on the roads in Algeria, but none can stand the 
climate and the work, the heat of summer, the moisture, 
coolness, and night fogs of winter. All break down ex- 
cept the native Arab, which they drive exclusively. No 
doubt the constitution of the equine race has become 
modified in the course of centuries, like that of the native 
human tribes, so as to thrive and nourish under conditions 
inimical to more northern races. The country does not 
produce enough of these Arab horses for its own require- 
ments, so their exportation is not encouraged. 

The towns of Orleansville and Reliziano are mere 
military and government stations, like Blidah and Milia- 
nah. They contain well built barracks, store warehouses, 



FARMS AND COLONISTS. 557 

hospitals, modest town halls, with accommodation for the 
government offices and law courts, small inns, with some 
one or two-storeyed houses for tradesmen, and a few farm, 
houses and cultivated farms within a mile or two of the 
town. The latter are occupied by colonists established on 
purpose to supply the wants of the adjoining population. 
Beyond there is little else but the wild grass and flower- 
covered prairie, varied, every now and then, by an Arab 
encampment. The inns were humble, but we everywhere 
found very tolerable fare, as I always have done in French 
territory, without having to fall back on the national Arab 
dish, the kouskousou. The kouskousou is composed of 
wheat or barley flour, moistened with water or milk, and 
rubbed into pellets by the hand. It is steamed two hours, 
flavoured with salt or sugar, and eaten with dates and 
raisins, or with a fowl or a piece of mutton. 

What I had heard at the Trappe monastery was every- 
where confirmed. Most of the colonists who accept grants 
of land from the Government die off in a few years, from 
fever and dysentery and their consequences. Their small 
means are exhausted in clearing the land ; they have often, 
at first, to camp out under tents, or in badly built huts, 
exposed to the intense heat of the day and to the moist 
chills of the night — according to Dr. Armand, the real 
cause of fever, not marsh emanations. They are badly fed, 
frequently drink, and often know nothing of farming. 
Being mostly people who have failed in life in Europe, 
they have the mental defects of those who do so fail — 
want of judgment, want of forethought, want of power to 
combine. Thus in a few years they disappear, and are 
succeeded by a higher class of farmers, men who belong to 
a higher social and mental grade, who have a little capital, 
and know how to use it. As I have already stated, they 
succeed and keep their health, where their predecessors 
failed and died. I believe this is also the case in our own 
colonies. To succeed, forethought, self-control, sobriety, 
perseverance, intelligence, are required. Those who do not 
possess these qualities fail everywhere. 

There is an exception, however, to this sad colonizing 
picture. It is when men of capital and of fair mental 



558 



ALGERIA. 



calibre, men who would do well at home, buy land, either 
first or second hand, have the means to wait until returns 
come, and also the means to tide over years of drought or of 
destruction by locusts. As they have the knowledge and the 
prudence required for success anywhere they do succeed, 
and eventually make twenty or thirty per cent, of the 
capital invested. Thus I was told of an English gentle- 
man, with three sisters, who bought an estate already in 
cultivation, with substantial healthy residential and farm 
buildings, near Blidah, for three or four thousand pounds, a 
few years ago, and was reaping a golden harvest. 

We came across several Arab camps in our drive through 
the ChelifF valley, and as we stopped and visited them, we 
obtained a very good idea of what Arab life in the tent 
really is. The engraving is an admirable representation of 
the real Arab tent, and of its inmates, on a fine day, when 
the sides are raised. Multiply this tent by many, and the 
camp is formed. It was in such tents, made of camel 
skins or camel haircloth, supported by poles, that the 
patriarchs of Scripture, Abraham and Isaac, lived and 
died. 

The two sketches— that of the Kabyle village and that 
of the Arab tent— give the key to the native populations 
of Algeria, and to their history past and present. The 
Algerine Arabs are nomads, of the same race, and having 
the same habits as the Arabs of Arabia, and of the North 
African deserts. In winter they camp on the plains of 
Algeria, within certain limits for each tribe. In summer, 
they ascend to the lower Atlas mountains ; also within 
prescribed limits for each tribe. The Kabyles or Berbers, 
on the contrary, as we have seen, are stationary agricul- 
turists. The nomad Arabs fought but fled before the 
enemy, carrying on a guerilla warfare. To subdue them 
France has had to successively conquer and take possession 
of the Little, Middle, and Great Atlas ranges, of the in- 
tervening valleys, and even of the oases of the Great 
Desert, that they might have no asylum to fly to. The 
Kabyle mountaineers, tied to the soil by their possessions 
and habits, had no refuge open to them, even of a tempo- 
rary nature, for they are of a different race to the Arabs, 



THE CONQUEST OF ALGERIA — WARS. 559 

arid there is animosity between them. So they fought 
with the energy of despair until finally subdued. 

It is now more than forty years since France first put her 
foot in Algeria. I was then a youth in Paris, and I well 
recollect the enthusiasm with which the news of the occu- 
pation of Algiers was received, just before the famous days 
of July, which I also witnessed. Little did France then 
know what a Herculean task she had undertaken — what 
treasure and blood it would cost to establish her sway over 
the wild tribes of North Africa. But the great deed has at 
last been accomplished, and the long years of constant war 
have at last ended in the conquest and pacification of the 
entire country, from Morocco to Tunis, from the Medi- 
terranean to the last oases of the northern regions of the 
Desert. Before this was attained, however, each chain of 
the Atlas had to be disputed with the Arabs, mile by mile, 
each village of Kabylia had to be fought for with the 
Kabyles ; and hundreds of thousands of French soldiers 
have perished by the sword or by disease. Now that all 
Algeria is under the dominion of the French nation, order 
and security to life and property reign everywhere. In the 
towns actually settled, the centres of the local government, 
the French code is enforced. In the outlying stations the 
authority of the Bureaux Arabes brings European views of 
justice to bear in a more summary, but most salutary way. 
Nor must we forget that it is a Christian people who have 
done and are doing in Algeria what we have done and are 
doing in other Mahommedan countries, in our Asiatic 
possessions. The gain is the gain of Christianity and of 
civilization, and all the Christian nations of Europe ought 
to feel that they owe a debt of gratitude to France for what 
she has accomplished, and willingly to help her in her great 
and noble enterprise. 

The prosperity of Algiers as a colony, however, is much 
marred by the narrow-minded commercial policy of the 
French nation. Their wish is to colonize Algeria, to make 
it support itself, instead of costing the mother country a 
million sterling yearly, as it now does. To effect this 
France ought to open the Algerine ports to all flags, 
making them all free ports, levying duties only for the 



560 ALGERIA. 

purpose of revenue. Instead of that, all the cumbrous 
duties and prohibitions of the French custom-house are in 
force, and heavy differential port duties are levied on foreign 
shipping. French colonists, as exporters, are thus placed 
at a great disadvantage when compared with those who 
cultivate the soil in the mother country, the natural market 
for their productions. They pay more for everything they 
use and consume, not produced in Algeria, and have to sell 
at a much less profit when they export, on account of freight, 
port dues, and commission expenses. Hundreds of foreign 
vessels are said to pass the Algerine ports, in ballast or in 
distress, without entering, on account of the port dues. If 
allowed to enter nearly free, such vessels would make a 
point of paying Algiers and Oran a visit to see if they could 
get cargo, or to refit ; as it is they pass on. As long as 
Algeria is thus governed it will remain what it now is — a 
military colony. It is to be hoped, however, for the sake 
of humanity, that more enlightened counsels will eventually 
prevail. 

Throughout this journey I never lost sight of the object 
for which I had come to Algeria, viz., to study its climate 
as a winter sanitarium. Every observation made with 
reference to botany, horticulture, geology, races, local 
habits, was mentally scrutinized with reference to this 
point, and it now only remains for me to state the conclu- 
sions at which I have arrived. Previous, however, to reca- 
pitulating the data on which these conclusions are founded, 
I would remark that they are so consonant with the laws 
of physical geography, as elucidated by the labours of 
Captain Maury, Keith Johnston, and others, that, given 
the data, they could be arrived at without leaving London 
or Paris. 

As we have seen, Algeria is a mere Switzerland, some 
twelve hundred miles from east to west, some two hundred 
from north to south, formed by a series of mountain ranges, 
the Atlas, and by intervening valleys. As the highest ranges, 
the Jurjura, do not rise above 7000 feet, there are no large 
glaciers as in the Alps, the Himalaya, or the Andes, to form 
the sources of large rivers. 

To the north we have the great inland sea, the Mediter- 



ALGERIA A MOIST CLIMATE. 561 

ranean, about five degrees of latitude or 300 miles across ; 
to the north-east the basin of the Mediterranean in its 
entire breadth ; to the north-west the Atlantic Ocean ; to 
the south the great burning Desert of Sahara, which 
extends over a considerable part of the African continent. 

The atmosphere which lies on this immense rainless tract, 
or desert, becoming heated both in winter and in summer, 
rises into the higher atmospheric regions, and thus forms a 
vacuum which the cooler and heavier air of the Mediter- 
ranean and of the Atlantic rushes down to fill. The latter 
is thus positively "sucked in"" over the summits of the 
mountain regions of the northern shore and of the Atlas 
ranges ; consequently in Algeria the regular winds must be 
either north-west or south-west, or north-east ; and south or 
south-east winds can and do only reign exceptionally. These 
direct winds coming from the ocean or the sea are moist 
winds, and, being brought in contact with the Atlas moun- 
tains on the very shore, are, in winter, so cooled down 
that they deposit their moisture in copious and frequent 
rain or snow over the entire Algerine and Atlas region, and 
into the Desert of Sahara, for 250 miles or more from 
the sea. This rainfall occurs from October or November 
to April or May. In summer the very mountains themselves 
become so heated with a nearly tropical sun and with the 
breath of the Desert, that the moisture of the northerly sea 
winds, when they blow, is no longer precipitated, but passes 
over them and into space. As, however, the air is moist 
the night dews are very heavy throughout the hot summer 
season, unless the scirocco blow from the Desert as a dry 
hot wind. 

Thus is explained the climate of Algeria. It is a tract of 
mountains, valleys, and contained plains, abundantly watered 
by cool northern rain clouds on the plains and lower moun- 
tains, and by rainfall and snow on the higher elevations, 
during nearly six months of the year, which makes it a 
garden of fertility. Mr. Tristram, in his most interesting 
work entitled " Wanderings in the Desert," says that he 
often saw hoar frost in the oases a hundred miles south of 
the Great Atlas. Thus, although burnt up by tropical heat 
during the summer, owing to its latitude and to its prox- 

o o 



562 ALGERIA. 

imity to the Great Desert of Sahara, the province of Algeria 
does not appear, by its vegetation, to possess a warmer 
winter climate than the protected regions of the north shore 
of the Mediterranean, such as the nndercliff from Cannes to 
Leghorn ; at least during the daytime. But there is more 
rain, more atmospheric moisture, and the nights are warmer. 
This latter fact is explained by the heat being more the result 
of latitude than it is, say at Nice and Mentone, where it is 
principally produced by the direct rays of the sun impinging 
on the land from the south, with shelter from the north 
behind. On the other hand, the intense heat of the summer, 
greater than on any part of the continent of Europe, ex- 
plains the greater luxuriance of some forms of vegetable life. 

I can certainly state, without any reserve, that the entire 
country visited between the 15th and 30th of April, from 
the frontiers of the province of Constantine to those of 
Morocco, from the Mediterranean seashore to the Desert, 
which lay at my feet when on one of the highest summits 
of Mount Atlas, was clothed with the most luxuriant 
vegetation. The mountain sides, the valleys, the plains, 
were all covered with trees, shrubs, flowers, or grasses. 
The entire country must have been irrigated, well watered, 
by Nature, every few days for months ; no other atmo- 
spheric condition could explain such widespread, such 
universal luxuriance of vegetable life. 

Algeria is certainly not a dry climate either in winter or 
summer, except when the scirocco blows. The average 
rainfall at Algiers is 36*18 inches, disseminated over 
the autumn, winter, and spring months, instead of 22 
inches as in England. The night dews are very heavy, 
which is owing to the atmosphere being constantly loaded 
with moisture, and to its being precipitated when the 
thermometer falls, even slightly, at night. This fall takes 
place as on the northern shore of the Mediterranean, but 
by no means to the same extent. 

The city of Algiers is more favourably placed than any 
other part of Algeria, from its having the additional pro- 
tection of the Sahel hill. Owing to the Atlas mountains 
being covered with snow in midwinter, even south winds 
may be cool or cold. When the Atlas snows are melted 



ALGERIA A MOIST CLIMATE. 



563 



these same south winds become very objectionable, as they 
then blow directly from the Desert, and are intensely hot. 

I have so far spoken of the climate of Algeria entirely 
from my own observations during this spring visit, and 
from deductions thereon founded. On consulting the 
most valuable and interesting work by Dr. Armand,* which 
I have already quoted, I find these deductions entirely 
confirmed by his actual experience, which extended over 
many years' militaiy service in Algiers and Algeria. 

Dr. Armand states that the seasons cannot be divided 
into four, as on the continent of Europe. There are in 
reality only two : the winter season, or cool rainy season, 
beginning with November, ending with April; and the 
summer, or hot and dry season, beginning with May and 
ending with October. The mean rainfall from 1839 to 
1845 at Algiers was 36 inches, 31 of which, or six-sevenths, 
fell in winter, and only 5, or one- seventh, in summer. It 
was thus distributed : — 



Inches. 

November 5 

December 8 

January 6 

February 5 

March 3 

April 4 

31 



May 
June 
July 



Inches. 



o 



August 0% 

September 1 



October 2± 



In 1843 rain fell on 90 days, as follows : — 



November 
December 
January . 
February 
March 
April . . 



Days. 

10 

5 

10 



44 



Nights. 

.. 10 

.. 2 

.. 7 

.. 7 



34 



78 



May . . 
June . . 
July . . 
August . 
September 
October . 



Days. Nights 
. 3 ... 1 
. 2 





2 
3 

10 



12 



* Medecine et Hygiene des Pays chauds et specialement de 
l'Algerie et des Colonies. Par le Docteur Adolphe Armand. Paris, 
1853. (Challamel.) 

oo 2 



564 ALGERIA. 

Dr. Armand gives 64° as the mean annual temperature 
of Algiers: — first quarter, 55°; second, 66°; third, 77°; 
fourth, 60°; =64°. But these trimestrial means are very 
deceptive. October and March are warm, January is cold. 

The atmosphere, heated by the burning breath of the 
scirocco, or wind from the Desert, does not usually cool 
down until the end of October. At that epoch or early 
in November, the air cools with a westerly wind, clouds 
form on the sky, and such torrential rain falls, that only 
houses very well-built can resist them, and the smallest 
torrent becomes an impetuous river, inundating the plains. 
Whilst the plains and valleys are thus inundated by the 
rainfall, snow falls on the mountain zone, and remains in 
mid-winter down to a level of about 1600 feet above the 
sea. The higher summits continue white with snow from 
November to March, and some of the highest mountains, 
such as the Jurjura (7000 feet), are snow-covered for ten 
months of the year. We ourselves found masses of snow 
above Teniet- el-Had, overlooking the Desert at an elevation 
of 5600 feet, on the 25th of April. Snow seldom falls on 
the shore, but when it ' does, it melts at once, as on the 
Genoese Riviera. Snow thus fell at Algiers in 1845, and 
there were both snow and ice in 1842. In the Algerine 
Sahara, beyond Teniet, in the high plains of the.Chotts, or 
salt-water lakes, the cold in winter is often very severe. 
On the 1 9th of April, 1847, there were two feet of snow on 
these plains, and advancing troops have frequently been 
driven back by the inclemency of the weather. 

In the retreat from Constantine the French were obliged 
to raise the siege and to retire, not so much from the 
resistance of the Arabs, as from the inclemency of the 
season. In January, 1846, the disasters of the campaign 
of Russia were reproduced on a small scale; the Setif 
column, exposed to snow-storms in the mountains of Bon 
Taleb, was obliged to return to Setif with 530 cases of 
frozen extremities, leaving on the road 208 dead soldiers 
(January 3). 

The most frequent winds in winter are the west and 
north-west from the Atlantic, and the north-east from the 
Mediterranean ; the least frequent is the south, or scirocco, 



RAINFALL — ATMOSPHERIC MOISTURE — DEW. 565 

itself a cold wind when the mountains are covered with 
snow. When the wind blows from the north-west, or 
south-west, and a feeling of coolness is experienced, rain 
may be predicted without consulting the thermometer. 
This sea-wind is so loaded with moisture that contact with 
the cool mountains is sufficient to discharge it in rain. 
During these rains the air is so moist that the wet and dry 
thermometers all but mark saturation. 

As in England, and in every other country, there are 
occasionally exceptional winters, winters of unusual drought 
at Algiers and in the lower plains. It was so a few winters 
ago, and a famine was the result. 

In April the rains become less frequent, the sky is less 
covered with clouds, the weather is warmer. May is the 
finest month of the year, although the scirocco sometimes 
blows towards the latter part, and gives rise to extreme 
heat. 

During the six summer months the sky is of a pure 
blue, the light intense, and the heat very great, especially 
if the wind blows from the Desert, which it does for about 
twenty-five or thirty days, on an average, at different 
periods. The inhabitants of the coast are then better off 
than those of the interior, as the air is refreshed by the 
sea-breeze. The thermometer is often at 98, blood heat, 
and sometimes much higher. The falling of the ther- 
mometer at sunset is sufficient to produce so abundant 
a deposit of dew that it saturates everything whenever 
the wind is in a northern quarter. When it blows from 
the Desert, the air is, on the contrary, very dry. These 
climate conditions produce fevers, dysentery, ophthalmia, 
and other tropical diseases. 

On the morning of the 30th of April we were in the 
railway car at Reliziano, the temporary terminus of the 
railway, now completed to Oran. At twelve we arrived 
at Oran, a clean seaport presenting a thoroughly French 
aspect; and here my exploration of Algeria ceased for 
want of time to continue it, but my obiect had been 
fulfilled. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

TUNIS AND TUNISIA. 

VOYAGE FKOM CAGLIATII — SITUATION — THE CITY — VEGETATION — THE 
BARDO— GARDENS — TUNISIA — THE CLIMATE. 

On Sunday, May 3rd, 1874, I embarked for Tunis at 
Cagliari, in Sardinia, at six p.m., in a very tolerable Italian 
steamer, built at Glasgow, as are most of the Italian steamers. 
The north-west wind, which had been coursing down the 
plains of Sardinia all the time I was there, hurrying to 
Central Africa, helped us across, although giving rise to a 
very heavy sea. I was, however, prepared to encounter 
rough weather in this part of the Mediterranean, so did not 
feel aggrieved. On the south shores of the Mediterranean 
in the winter, the wind is generally north-west or north- 
east, no doubt owing to the attraction exercised by the 
Desert of Sahara. Thus even when the barometer is high, 
and the weather is fine, there is mostly in winter, perhaps 
also in summer, an agitated sea near the coast, instead of 
the calm which often reigns on the north coast of the Medi- 
terranean. Such, at least, I have found it in spring, and 
the remark has been confirmed by nautical men. The 
existence of all but constant north winds during winter and 
spring on the south shores of the Mediterranean, owing to 
the attraction of the Sahara, is an important fact with re- 
gard to climate and vegetation, as explained in the preced- 
ing chapter. 

Tunis is situated at the base of a wide gulf or bay, on a 
strip of rising ground between and on the margin of two 
large salt-water lakes, and is ten miles from the sea and 
from the landing port of Galetta. It is connected with 
the latter by a railway, built with English capital and 
managed by English officials. It is in latitude 36° 35' N., 
and longitude 10° 16' E.; 380 miles east of Algiers, 275 
north-west of Tripoli, 150 south of Sardinia, and seven 
decrees, or 420 miles south of the Genoese Riviera. The 



TUNIS VERY EASTERN — BAZAARS. 567 

population is 130,000 — a mixture of Moors, Turks, Arabs, 
Jews, and Christians. 

Tunis is thoroughly eastern in its character ; the streets 
are mere lanes or alleys a few feet only in width, through 
which no carriages can or do pass. Here and there are 
narrow streets of the same type, but covered over, which, 
are called bazaars. On each side of these narrow streets 
are the shops, which consist of recesses from six to twelve 
feet wide, and the same in depth ; they occupy the entire 
front, which is thus completely open. On a counter on one 
side are the goods, and behind, or on a counter on the oppo- 
site side, sits, cross-legged, the merchant, Turk, Arab, or 
Jew. Each covered area of alleys which constitutes a 
bazaar is generally devoted to one trade, the shopkeepers all 
selling the same goods. Thus there is a bazaar for jewellers, 
others for drug- merchants, woollen-merchants, grain-mer- 
chants, and so on. These bazaars are regulated by certain 
laws and customs, like the guilds of the north in the Middle 
Ages, which they reproduce in a quaint Oriental form. Every 
now and then camels, laden with merchandize, or with 
panniers full of city refuse, or a donkey carrying a veiled 
Turkish lady like a bundle of woollen or linen clothes, 
pass by, and oblige the foot passengers to stand aside. On 
the whole, Tunis appeared to me the most strictly Oriental 
city I have seen, more so even than Algiers, Smyrna, or 
Constantinople. Perhaps this is because the foreign or 
Frank element is not proportionally so numerous as in 
any of the Eastern cities named. 

The City of Tunis is five miles in circumference, and is 
surrounded by lofty walls. There are five gates, and thirty- 
five mosques, which I did not see, as " infidels" are not 
allowed to enter. When I was there, the weather was and 
had long been fine, so the town was clean ; but not being 
paved, it is said to be ankle-deep in mud in rainy weather 
in winter. Altogether, it is so thoroughly Mahommedan 
and Eastern in its aspect, that this fact alone makes it worth 
visiting, especially for travellers unacquainted with Oriental 
life and ways. 

There is no regular harbour for vessels, which have to 
anchor in the roads, that is in a rather exposed bay, a mile 



568 TUNIS AND TUNISIA. 

from shore. The disembarkation has always to take place 
in boats, and sometimes it is difficult or dangerous, and 
passengers have to remain on board until the weather 
moderates. We were fortunate, and had no difficulty in 
landing on arrival at the port and village of Galetta, where 
we took the English railway to Tunis. We were pleased to 
find, as we had found before in other out-of-the-way parts 
of the Mediterranean, that the steam-engine and railway 
carriages were made in England. On the latter were the 
familiar words, first, second, and third class, and inside were 
announcements in English, side by side with the same in 
Arabic — a singular juxtaposition. At Tunis there is now 
only one foreign hotel, the Hotel de Paris, kept by a very 
amiable old French ex-engineer. Finding his own business 
at Tunis a very poor one, he devoted some spare capital to 
building a new hotel. It will be quite a handsome edifice 
when finished, which is now far from being the case. 
Wonderful to say, this ex-engineer does not yet know how 
to charge ; no doubt, however, he will soon learn this part 
of his business. 

The morning after my arrival, May 5, I sallied forth to 
examine the vegetation. There is no public garden and no 
vegetation inside the walls, with the exception of a few 
Ailantus trees at the entrance gate, and some courtyard 
gardens of a few feet in diameter in the less crowded part 
of the town, near the salt-water lake. In one of these, 
opposite the hotel, there were Fig trees in fruit and leaf, 
Acacia and Ailantus, with merely terminal leaves ; Almond 
trees in leaf and fruit, a few white Bengal Hoses, some 
Petunias and Stocks, Bananas, naked, ragged ; a Pear tree 
and a Cherry tree, the former in flower, the latter just 
forming the fruit; and some small Orange trees, from seven 
to ten feet high. I only saw one Palm in the town, a 
Phoenix dactylifera, twenty feet high, at the entrance. 
This little garden must have been all but leafless all winter 
— indeed until far into April, the trees named being all 
deciduous, except the Orange trees. It was very sheltered, 
inside the African city, and yet in any part of the more 
protected north Mediterranean shore, from Cannes to Pisa, 



THE BARDO — VEGETATION. 569 

or in the sheltered valleys of Corfu, vegetation is quite as 
far advanced at the same date. 

The two salt-water lakes, with the town between them, 
occupy the centre of a wide plain, limited east, west, and 
south by low mountain ridges. About a mile from- the 
archway leading out of the south wall, theie is a palace of 
the Bey's, "the Bardo," which he usually inhabits in winter. 
A mile further on are some gardens belonging to one of the 
Ministers of State ; and two miles further, at Manda, are 
the gardens belonging to the Bey himself. I devoted an 
entire day to their examination (May 6) . 

The Bey's country palace presented, as is usual in the 
East, a central garden entirely surrounded by the buildings, 
and all but the facsimile of the one mentioned in the town. 
It contained Ailantus, Almond, Acacia, Fig, Olive, Plane, 
and small Orange trees. There was one handsome Araucaria 
excelsa, twenty feet high, and a good Palm — no flowers 
whatever. In winter it must be as naked as an English 
orchard without evergreens. 

The road from Tunis to the Bardo was flanked by 
avenues of Acacia, Melia Azedarach in flower, Ailantus, and 
Mulberry, fruiting. The fields were growing bearded Corn, 
Barley, and Teazles, whilst in the ditches and in the fallow 
fields were Nettles, Plantain, variegated Thistles in great 
numbers, Docks, Mustard, Corn Poppies, red and white 
Clover, Convolvulus, Daisies, Borage, Mallow, Vetches, 
yellow Cornflower, or Chrysanthemum segetum, so abundant 
in Sardinia, with hedges of Opuntia, but not growing as 
luxuriantly as in Sardinia. 

Outside the palace there was a rather large plantation of 
Walnut trees without a leaf, merely buds swelling ; here and 
there were Elder trees in flower. The Elder grows luxu- 
riantly in the vicinity of Tunis, sometimes as a bush, 
sometimes as a large tree. The Vines were in bud, but the 
flowers were not expanded. 

The palace of the Bey was interesting in its way, princi- 
pally as illustrating the progress of European ideas and 
habits in a thoroughly Eastern ceutre. The architecture 
presented nothing special beyond the fact that all the 



570 TUNIS AND TUNISIA. 

windows looked out on the central courtyard, none on the 
country around, as is usually the case in Oriental edifices. 
There were many rooms furnished in a fifth-rate French 
style — carpets with creases and folds, not pulled over the 
floor, French prints in common gilded frames, such as are 
seen in second-rate furnished hotels all over France. One 
room was thus ornamented with the adventures of Byron's 
Don Juan, one of the last subjects I should have expected 
to find in a Mussulman Bey's palace. There were also 
some bad pictures and portraits, and an immense number of 
common cheap gilt French clocks and mirrors ; all the 
clocks had stopped, not one was going. Some of the pic- 
tures seemed due to native talent, for the laws of perspective 
were quite ignored, and the favourite subject was the im- 
palement of prisoners. This is an awful subject, which 
was awfully treated, and I really think no European artist 
of modern times could be guilty of painting such pictures. 
The poor Bey had evidently been victimized by his French 
agents or upholsterers ; no doubt he had paid for every- 
thing I saw its weight in gold. 

The gardens belonging to the Bey and to his ministers, a 
few miles further on, were all but completely surrounded by 
walls fifteen or twenty feet high, entirely so on the north 
side. They were principally Orange orchards, containing 
hundreds of healthy, bushy Orange trees, with stems one or 
two feet in diameter, but not rising above the level of the 
wall. They were planted thickly, but not so thickly as at 
Milis in Sardinia ; each tree was allowed to develope itself. 
They were all covered with blossom, as is the case on the 
sheltered north shore of the Mediterranean at this epoch, 
the first week in May. There were other fruit trees in 
abundance — Pomegranate, Plums stoning, Pear trees with 
fruit just set, Cherries the same, Figs, Mulberries, a few- 
Lemon trees; each tree had a deep saucer round it for 
irrigation, and there was a plentiful supply of water. The 
flowers were not numerous, and of the usual kinds, Bengal 
Roses, hybrids filling out buds, Petunia, Verbena, Abutilon, 
Stock. The Centifolia Hose was in bud, not in flower; 
Buddleia Madagasearen sis-going out of flower, Oleander in, 
bud ; not in flower, Cannas two feet out of ground. On 



THE RUINS OF CARTHAGE. 571 

my return to Tunis I went into the vegetable market and 
found Broad Beans, Peas, Cauliflowers, Artichokes, Radishes 
in abundance ; the only fruit were Oranges, Lemons, and 
half-ripe Loquats (Eriobotrya) . 

The following day J went to visit the site of Carthage, 
about eight miles north-east of Tunis, on an eminence over- 
looking the sea. We passed through a plain which might 
have been in England. There was nothing Oriental about 
it, not a Palm tree within sight ; merely fields, fallow and 
covered with the plants already named, or planted with 
cereals, Teazles, and Beans — but by far the greater part 
was fallow. The soil seemed thin and meagre, and 
thoroughly exhausted by centuries of cultivation without 
manure. We met the Bey going to a country house he 
has near the sea, and which he inhabits during the summer 
heats; he was in a European brougham, and would have 
passed all but unobserved had it not been for his Oriental 
military escort. 

The far-famed ruins of Carthage consist simply of six- 
teen cisterns for water, placed in juxtaposition to each 
other, sixty feet long, twenty-five feet wide, twenty deep, 
arched over, and half-full of rain-water. They have been 
uncovered by excavation, and are still, generally speaking, 
in good repair, on the rising ground. They are presumed 
to belong to the Roman period, not to the early Cartha- 
ginian. No doubt the ruins of old Carthage still 
remain buried in the half mile or mile that separates 
them from the sea. We had taken provisions with us, and 
we made an " ever to be remembered" al fresco picnic 
dinner under the very shadow of the ruins. We thought 
and talked of the past, of Marius sitting on the same spot 
and musing over the ruins of Carthage, and of poor Dido, 
whose plaintive speech to iEneas, destined to deceive her so 
cruelly and perfidiously, I have for many years repeated 
to myself — 

" Non ignara mali, miseris succurrere disco." 

The Bey of Tunis, a tributary of the Sublime Porte, 
governs a country extending over 200 miles from north to 
south, from the Mediterranean to the Desert, and 120 



572 TUNIS AND TUNISIA. 

miles from west to east, from Algeria to the Mediterranean 
and Tripoli. The western parts and the centre of this 
region are mountainous, or rather hilly, the Atlas moun- 
tains gradually expiring, as it were, in this region. The 
sea-coast is low and marked by ridges or waves of sand. 
A fair amount of rain falls in winter in most years, but 
not always ; running down the mountain sides, it gives 
rise to ponds, lakes, and marshes. They present the 
peculiarity of being salt, probably owing to the existence 
of salt in the soil. The two large lakes north and south of 
Tunis are intensely salt, and enlivened in winter by flocks 
of red flamingos, and by hosts of water-fowl. The Car- 
thage water-fowl is considered a great delicacy, and we 
found it so. These lakes and ponds, as they partially dry in 
summer from evaporation, leave saline incrustations on 
their margins. It is no doubt owing to their saltness that 
they do not produce malaria either on the low or the 
higher grounds of Tunisia. The same fact is noticed in 
Sardinia, as also in Algeria, where salt lakes or schotts are 
numerous on the south-eastern base of the Atlas. Thus, 
Oristano, surrounded by fresh-water marshes and lakes, is 
decimated by fever, as we have seen, whilst Cagliari, 
equally, if not more, hemmed in by intensely salt lakes and 
marshes, is comparatively free from malarious fevers. 

The central mountain or hilly regions of Tunisia are 
covered with Olive trees, and Olive oil is the principal 
product. With the exception of the Olive there is little 
other tree vegetation to be found ; only here and there a 
few Pomegranates, Caroubas, Opuntias, with some scanty 
patches of Barley and Wheat. It appears that within 
the last five years 300,000/. worth of oil has been exported 
from Tunis, one-fifth direct to Great Britain, the rest to 
Italy and France. 

From the above data it is evident that the north winds in 
winter reach the Tunis coast, and render its unprotected, 
unsheltered shores as cold as, if not colder than, the pro- 
tected north coast of the Riviera. Moreover these winds, 
crossing the Mediterranean on their way, are damp as well 
as cool, and a deal of rain falls. Most of the flowers I have 
named had been in full glory in my Mentone garden since 



CLIMATE, 573 

February, and many were quite out of flower when I left 
(April 11). Orange trees exist in Tunisia, but they are 
miles away in the interior, hidden behiud sheltering walls 
and hedges, only to be seen even by getting inside. The 
Palm trees in and around the city are so few that they 
can be counted on the ringers. All the trees I saw being 
deciduous and without their leaves until April or May, the 
winter aspect of the country must be as bleak as that of 
the north of Europe in regions where evergreens are 
unknown. 

Such is Tunis, both as regards its physical aspect, its 
vegetation, and its climate. Once the Orientalism of the 
city has been investigated and has become familiar it is a 
most uninviting abode — dull in fine weather, dirty in bad, 
ten miles away from the sea, in a dreary plain, without 
walks, gardens, or promenades, either inside or outside the 
walls. In winter cool moist north winds reign, as in 
Algeria, totally devoid of the bracing, tonifying character 
of the dry north winds which prevail in the sheltered regions 
of the north shore of the Mediterranean ; consequently it 
is only suited to exceptional forms of disease. 

If a mild, moist climate is really required for exceptional 
cases I can see no reason whatever why Tunis should be 
preferred to Algiers. The latter, with its numerous social 
resources and all the advantages of advanced European 
civilization, is infinitely preferable as a winter residence. 



CHAPTEE XVII. 

ASIA MINOR— SMYRNA — EPHESUS— AIDIN — VEGETATION— . 
CLIMATE. 

The only part of Asia Minor that I have personally ex- 
plored is Smyrna and the country that extends between 
that city and Ephesus. My visit to these regions was paid 
in May, 1872, on the way from Athens to Constantinople. 

The steamer passes between the island of Scio and the 
mainland, round a promontory directed due north, and then 
enters the wide, deep, and beautiful Gulf of Smyrna, taking 
a south-eastern course. The approach to Smyrna is ex- 
quisitely lovely on a fine summer day, such as we enjoyed. 
The Gulf is bounded on each side by low mountains, about 
1000 or 1500 feet high, which rise gently from the shores, 
and thus limit it on all sides, except towards the open sea, 
to the north. Smyrna is situated at the south-eastern angle 
of the bay which the gulf forms, at the foot of a plain, 
which joins the hills or mountains in the background, also 
by a gentle rise. I and my fellow passengers, marvelling 
at the extreme beauty of the site, were anxious to land, 
connecting the name of Smyrna and its population of 
150,000 with visions of Eastern magnificence, of southern 
fertility, and of all but tropical vegetation. 

Smyrna is the most important and populous town in Asia 
Minor, in long. 38° 28' N., lat. 27° T E. The great 
security of its harbour, sheltered from all winds, and entered 
by the splendid Gulf, has made it a favourite commercial 
mart from the earliest times. It has been a great com- 
mercial centre from the early days of Greek history, and 
although repeatedly destroyed, or all but destroyed, by war, 
earthquakes, fire, or pestilence, it has always risen again from 
its ashes with renewed prosperity. The city ascends from 
the shore of the bay in the form of an amphitheatre, and 



SMYRNA FROM THE SEA — THE REALITY. 575 

looks quite imposing as it is approached from the Gulf. I 
was prepared by what I had read for wide streets, fine houses, 
splendid quays, and Oriental magnificence, but I was mise- 
rably disappointed on landing. I found the town a mere 
mass of narrow lanes and of small wooden houses, huddled 
together — without a monument, public building, or open 
space to redeem it. On the shore, instead of handsome 
quays as described, I found merely booths, coffee sheds, 
barns, warehouses, on piles advancing into the water. A 
sea-w 7 all was being built about thirty feet in advance of 
these pile-supported shanties, but for the time it only made 
matters worse, leaving a pool of festering sewerage between 
itself and the ramshackle shore houses. There were, how- 
ever, many vessels quite near the shore, anchored in deep 
water, and the shops and bazaars were unquestionably full 
of goods. The hotels are very bad — worse than in the most 
unfrequented Continental towns. 

One night I was awakened before daylight by a cry of 
" Fire \" The inhabitants of the hotel were evidently in 
great alarm, so I dressed and followed them to the top of 
the house, where there was a flat roof. There was, truly, 
a great fire about a quarter of a mile from us, and a very 
grand sight it was. I soon, however, got tired, and went 
to bed again. The next morning at breakfast I learnt that 
the fire was put out, but that it had been very alarming, 
and at one time it was feared that the entire town would 
be burnt. I was the only one who, in ignorance, slept 
through it; all the other inmates had packed up their 
goods and chattels, and kept ready to depart. Had there 
been a wind the entire town, or a great part of it, might 
have fallen a sacrifice to the flames, as in 1841, when more 
than half the town was burnt. The houses being of wood, 
and the streets so narrow in these Eastern cities, there is 
only one way to stop a fire, that is to pull down the adjoin- 
ing houses, which they did successfully in this case ; but 
with a strong wind this plan often fails. 

The vegetation in and around Smyrna I soon found was 
all but that of the north of Europe, I asked for the 
Botanic Garden, or for the public gardens, but those whom 
I addressed did not even know what I meant. Nothing 



576* ASIA MINOR. 

of the kind existed. I was, however, shown a tea-garden 
of about ten acres, and some market gardens in the vicinity 
of the city. The tea-garden was evidently an old Orange 
orchard, behind the town, which sheltered it, and was 
protected by an earth-wall about eighteen feet high to the 
north, and by trees planted all round. The Orange trees 
were healthy, in bud but not in flower, mostly about 
fifteen or twenty years old, not reaching above the pro- 
tecting wall. There were Oleanders in bud, but not in 
flower ; in Algeria I found the Oleander filling watercourses 
on Mount Atlas, in full flower, on April 20. There were 
also Melia Azedarach, Pomegranate, in sparse flower; 
Kobinia Pseudo Acacia, Tamarisk, Mulberry, Euonymus 
japonica— much grown everywhere as a bush, for protection, 
when protection is only required for six or ten feet from 
the ground, or to complete the protection given by trees. 
The Elderberry tree, or Sambucus racemosa, was growing 
in great luxuriance. I was rather surprised to find it grow- 
ing all over Greece, and in Asia Minor, apparently quite at 
home with an intensely hot summer climate, for it is so 
commonly met with even in the north of England, growing 
and fruiting without care or protection, that it seems quite 
one of our own trees. There were only a few Bengal Roses, 
Geraniums, and Antirrhinums in this so-called garden, 
which was one mass of weeds two feet high, and in an 
undescribable state of desolation and neglect. There was 
a cafe in the middle, open on Sundays I was told. The 
other gardens I saw, belonging to Smyrna merchants, were 
of the same character,— enclosed with walls and planted 
with vegetables, principally Beans, Peas, Tomatoes, Melons, 
Artichokes, between the rows or squares of fruit trees ; also 
with Orange, Pear, Pomegranate trees, cultivated for 
sale ; Cherries still green, Pears not larger than Filberts. 
I saw several large Palms in good health, and no doubt 
more could be grown were they wanted. 

There were small Fig trees in these orchards, but I looked 
in vain for trees giving the promise of such Figs as we get 
under the name of Smyrna Figs, nor did I see any on sale 
in the town, although there were basketfuls everywhere of 
the kind of Figs which are found all over the south of 



CLIMATE RUINS OF EPHESUS. 577 

Europe, dry, bard, half white figs, which we English de- 
spise and reject. I was told that the so-called Smyrna 
Eigs were produced fifty miles more south, in the vicinity 
of the town of Aidin, beyond Ephesus — a much warmer and 
more sheltered locality. 

It appears from what I learnt on the spot that the 
winter cold is often very severe at Smyrna, which explains 
the absence of southern vegetation. A few years ago the 
thermometer fell many degrees below the freezing point, 
and killed all the Olive trees. A glance at the map explains 
this fact ; there are no sufficiently high mountains to the 
north, between Smyrna and the mouths of the Danube, 
distant only five degrees of latitude, or SOO miles, to com- 
pletely shelter it from north winds descending from this 
region, and the Danube is frozen down to the sea every 
winter. There is protection, but it is not sufficient to 
secure immunity from cold in winter, and a southern 
vegetation. 

The great object of curiosity and interest to all travellers 
who visit Smyrna is the ruins of Ephesus, the great city of 
former days, celebrated both as a nourishing Greek colony 
and as the abode of the Apostle Paul, in the early days of 
Christianity. They are situated forty-eight miles due south, 
on a new railroad opened to Aidin, a Turkish town, as 
stated, the centre of the Fig trade. I and my travelling 
friends formed a party and hired a special train for the 
purpose. We started at ten and reached by twelve, most 
comfortably, the Ephesus station near the ruins. On leaving 
Smyrna, we gradually ascended, passing through a plain 
bounded on each side by mountains several thousand feet 
high, until we reached an altitude of 500 feet by the 
barometer. We then descended a more rapid slope until 
we came to Ephesus, nearly on the sea level. At a few 
miles distance from Smyrna there were some small scattered 
Olive and Fig trees, the remains, no doubt, of the former 
plantations, with vineyards and cereals, but these ceased as 
we receded from the sea and reached the altitude of 400 
feet. We then found ourselves on a barren plain, with 
merely here and there patches of ground cultivated with 
cereals, in the vicinity of small villages. Around these 

p p 



578 ASIA MINOR. 

villages, in orchards generally protected by walls, were 
small Fig, Almond, and Mulberry trees, and Vines ; other- 
wise the vast plain was abandoned and desolate, more so 
than the plain valleys of Algeria, which it resembled. Just 
before we reached Ephesus, at the south base of the hill we 
had crossed, which sheltered the spot, we came on a grove 
of magnificent Fig trees, as large as seventy-year Oaks, 
which we were told, were the beginning of the great Fig 
orchards. The additional protection from the north afforded 
by the low hill had entirely changed the climate con- 
ditions, and had enabled them to reach this splendid de- 
velopment. 

At the station we found a sufficient number of horses, 
ordered beforehand, to mount our party, and started for the 
ruins under the direction of a guide. The very interesting 
ruins of Ephesus are situated on elevations which overlook 
a. wide plain, watered by a small river that runs into the 
sea a few miles further on. The ground is in some places 
marshy, and the vegetation most rank and luxuriant. We 
passed through groves of the variegated Thistle, at least ten 
feet hiffh, with leafless stems serried like Pine trees, and 
alongside Docks (Rumex obtusifolius), also ten or twelve 
feet high, like bushes, with immense broad leaves. It was 
in the midst of this rich but wild vegetation that we found 
the remains of the great city, dotted over an area more 
than four miles in circumference, the space circumscribed 
in former days by the town walls. The ruins are those of 
theatres, a circus, a magnificent gymnasium, and of many 
other public edifices. The site of the temple of Diana has 
been determined, and is being actively cleared by Mr. 
Wood acting as the representative of the British Museum. 
These ruins leave the impression of a very magnificent city, 
of great wealth and of a large population. 

The plain in which the ruins are situated is only a few 
miles from the sea, and in its centre flows a small river, the 
Cayster. It is very lovely as seen from a hill on which 
some of the ruins are found, and looks as smiling and as 
innocent as any English vallejr, with its river wandering 
through grass fields in summer time. And yet it is entirely 
deserted, and as silent and lifeless as if the foot of man had 



THE PLAIN OF SMYRNA — MALARIA. 579 

never touched the soil, although in former clays, no doubt, 
it helped to nourish the hundreds of thousands who in- 
habited Ephesus. 

The cause of this desertion is the deadly malaria that 
reigns in this region. All the way from Smyrna, a rich 
nourishing town of 150,000 inhabitants, we had passed 
through tens of thousands of acres of fertile land, capable, 
with labour and irrigation, of producing anything — and 
yet a desert. The principal cause, I was told, here too is 
the malaria fever, which strikes down nearly all who culti- 
vate the soil. Dr. McCraith, the well known English phy- 
sician at Smyrna, told me that no one ever slept at Ephesus 
without getting fever, and that two years ago 50,000 of 
the native inhabitants of Aidin and of the Fig districts 
were lying ill, incapable of work, at the time of the Fig 
harvest in autumn. The crop could not be gathered for 
want of hands, and they had to send for help to Smyrna, 
and to offer half the crop to those who would come and 
assist them to gather it. The probable cause of the exces- 
sive unhealthiness of the Ephesus plain is the difficulty its 
river, the Cayster, finds in discharging its waters into the 
Mediterranean, and their consequent overflow of the entire 
country near their outlet. The pestilence of malaria extends 
to all the low valleys of this region. I met at Smyrna an 
English merchant, or landowner, who has been for many 
years the proprietor of a prosperous liquorice factory in a 
valley a few miles from Aidin. The liquorice plant grows 
wild in these mountain and valleys, and can be had for the 
gathering. The extract from the root is extensively in 
demand, especially in Spain, for the manufacture and flavour- 
ing of tobacco. Malaria fever had been his great enemy, 
often disabling half his workpeople at a time ; with all 
his precautions, he had repeatedly been ill himself, and 
obliged to take refuge in England. He invited me to pay 
him a visit, and I much regretted I had not time to do so. 
Here, again, was an illustration of the adventurous spirit 
of our countrymen, who penetrate and have penetrated 
everywhere, except in Sardinia, where I did not find one. 

After spending four hours in the saddle, scanning this 
interesting spot, we returned to the station, where a very 

p p 2 



580 ASIA MINOR. 



good dinner had been prepared for us. We partook thereof 
with great pleasure in the open air, and then again entered 
our train at four, arriving at Smyrna by six. The next day 
I departed to continue my journey to Constantinople, with 
the conviction that I had not discovered another sanitarium 
for winter — that Smyrna is all very well for business, but 
is not calculated to afford invalids a winter retreat and 
asylum. This verdict may probably be applied to the whole 
coast of Asia Minor. 

As far as can be prejudged from the data afforded by 
physical geography, the Gulf and Bay of Smyrna must be 
fair specimens — indeed, rather favourable specimens — of the 
climate of Asia Minor in general. Asia Minor is a moun- 
tainous country, exposed to very cold winds from all 
northern regions — from the Caucasian mountains to the 
north-east; from the cold Black Sea, into which so many 
frozen rivers pour their waters, to the north; from the 
Balkan mountains and the snow and frost-clad plains of 
Bulgaria and Wallachia to the north-west. No doubt, in 
this latitude, at the base of sheltering mountains running 
east and west, especially near the sea, there are nooks, 
valleys, undercliffs warmed by the sun ; but they must be 
exceptions to the general tenour of winter temperatures. 

Even in Palestine, which lies much more to the south, 
between latitude 31° and 35°, the weather is often very cold 
and severe in winter, although Palestine is sheltered from 
the north by the entire mass of Asia Minor and of its 
mountains. Not only is there every year frost and snow in 
January in the mountain regions of Lebanon, blocking up 
the roads and interrupting communications, but even in the 
plains and on the shore north polar winds bring cold and rain. 
The journey from Beyrout to Jerusalem and to Damascus 
is by no means always a pleasant journey in January and 
in February, owing to the presence of cold and wet brought 
by the north winds. 



PART IV. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE ITALIAN LAKES. 

LAKES ISE0 — COMO — LUGANO — MAGGIORE — THE SIMPLON PASS 

THE SCOTCH LOCHS — LOCH AWE — LOCH MAREE. 

" I love to sail along the Larian lake 
Under the shore — tho' not, where'er he dwelt, 
To visit Pliny .... So I sit still, 
And let the boatman shift his little sail, 
His sail so forked and swallow like, 
Well pleased with all that comes. The morning air 
Plays on my cheek how gently, flinging round 
A silvery gleam " — Rogers' Italy. 

Every year, as spring approaches, the Mentone com- 
munity begins to form plans for the return home, and I 
am always implored by friends and patients to sanction 
their travelling by way of the Italian lakes and Switzer- 
land. The desire is very natural ; there is such a poetical 
halo about these lakes, such sublime grandeur in the great 
Alpine passes, that it is quite distressing to be so near and 
not to see them, especially when they can be brought, with 
ease, into the home journey. 

My objections to this route were frequently met by the 
inquiry whether I had myself passed the Swiss mountains 
in spring, and as I was obliged to confess I had not, I was 
often thought to exaggerate the danger. I therefore 
determined, in April, 1864, being quite convalescent, to 
adopt this route on the return journey to England, and to 
judge for myself. I secured some agreeable companions, 
and was thus independent of " travelling acquaintances.'" 

On the 8th of April, when we left Mentone, summer 
had thoroughly commenced on the Riviera. The spring 



582 THE ITALIAN LAKES. 

flowers were passing away, and those of our June had made 
their appearance ; the days were warm and cloudless, and 
the nights cool and pleasant, the thermometer never de- 
scending below 50°. The mountain sides were clothed 
with verdure, and perfumed with wild Thyme, Rosemary, 
and Mountain Lavender, the Willows and Poplars were in 
full foliage. 

On leaving Genoa and passing the protection of the 
Apennine chain, April 11th, a great change was observed. 
Although the sun was bright and the weather fine, winter 
still reigned in the plains of Lombardy, the trees were 
leafless, the hedges and ground bare. Indeed, the spring 
was not more advanced than it usually is in England at 
the same period, owing, evidently, to want of protection 
from the north winds. The high Swiss mountains, 
although running due east and west, only protect the 
regions immediately at their base; the north winds pass 
over these favoured spots to descend in full force on the 
plains beyond. 

Nothing can be more dreary and more monotonous than 
the fertile plains between Genoa and Turin, once the rail- 
road emerges from the Apennines, at this time of the year ; 
nor was the region between Turin and Milan more favoured. 
These plains are perfectly flat, and are merely divided into 
segments by ditches or small irrigation canals, bordered 
with pollard Willows or Poplars, still quite devoid of foliage. 
Along the railway, from Turin to Milan they are 
principally cultivated with Rice, and the agricultural 
labours of spring were in full operation, part of the country 
being laid under water by artificial irrigation. The pro- 
cess appears to be, in March or April, firstly to plough the 
fallow land, and then to divide it into fields of from ten to 
twenty acres by banks of mould or clay one foot high. 
Water is afterwards let in, so as to thoroughly saturate 
the ground ; it is then drawn off, the rice sown, and 
the field again covered with water to the depth of two 
or three inches. This water is constantly renewed, so as 
to keep it at the above height, until the grain is formed. 
It is then allowed to gradually sink into the ground and 
the crop ripens without further irrigation. The water 



MILAN ENSLAVED AND FREE. 583 

must be raised by artificial means, for the irrigation canals 
are, in most instances, considerably below the level of the 
fields. 

The country itself appeared very prosperous ; there was 
building 1 going on in every village or town we passed 
through, and throngs of well-dressed, well-fed people, of 
all ranks, got in and out of the trains wherever we stopped. 
A little before we reached Milan we came to the station of 
Magenta, a name henceforth sacred in Italian history. It 
was here that was fought, between the French and Italians 
and the Austrians, the great battle, the gain of which may 
be said to have established Italian independence. It was 
difficult to believe that this calm and tranquil little village, 
had been, only a few years before, the scene of one of the 
greatest battles of the century, — that the very station we 
were in, situated in the thick of the fight, was taken and 
retaken half a dozen times, and that tens of thousands 
stained with their blood the verdant fields around. Near 
the station is seen a monumental pyramid, erected by the 
Italian government to the memory of the brave men who 
fell in the battle. 

I experienced great pleasure in again seeing Milan in its 
new position — as one of the chief cities of a free and inde- 
pendent state, of "Italia Unita." I had several times visited 
this city in the epoch of Austrian rule, and always mourned 
over its dejected, enslaved appearance. In those days large 
bodies of fair-haired Austrians, in their white uniforms, 
seemed to occupy it as a foreign army would occupy a city 
after a siege. They were everywhere — at the gates, in the 
streets, in the public squares, in the cafes, in the magnifi- 
cent cathedral, in the pit of the theatre; they seemed to 
be lords and masters, and to know it, whilst the poor 
Italians appeared humbled and dispirited. Often I could 
observe a scowl of hatred flash over their face as their 
northern conquerors swaggered past, their swords clanking 
on the pavement. I cannot understand any one being 
twenty-four hours at Milan or at Venice, in those days, 
without feeling an ardent sympathy for the oppressed 
Italians, — an ardent desire to see their northern masters 
obliged to recross the Alps. 



584 THE ITALIAN LAKES. 

Now the state of things is altogether different j there are 
no more foreign soldiers to be seen, and the warriors 
who are visible wear the national uniform. The streets are 
thronged with happy, contented faces, and the evidences 
of individual prosperity, and of active healthy municipal life, 
are met with on every side. The city is being quite trans- 
formed ; new streets of fine houses are being built in the 
suburbs, public buildings are being renovated, and plans are 
being matured, which, if effectually carried out, as no doubt 
they will be, must make Milan a truly splendid city. 
Among these is one for clearing the vicinity of the grand 
cathedral of a host of inferior dwellings, and for erecting a 
range of first-class mansions, in unison with this noble 
structure, one of the finest specimens of Gothic architecture 
in the world. The cathedral is indeed worthy of every 
effort being made to bring its proportions into view; it is 
inexpressibly majestic, both internally and externally, 
worthy of a great and free nation, and deserving of a 
special visit to Italy. 

On looking round and witnessing: these evidences of 
renewed national life, I could not but regret that the poet, 
Samuel Rogers, did not live to see the fulfilment of his 
singular prophecy contained in the noble lines, reproduced 
at the head of the eighth chapter, page 207. His heart 
would indeed have warmed to see the country which 
he loved with such deep and sincere affection rise from 
"the dust/' shake off its chain, drive away the eagle 
ce cowering over his prey," and, for " the third time," re- 
assume its rank among nations. Most truly and propheti- 
cally did he say, "and shalt again." 

The weather was beautiful while we were at Milan, but 
we were told that the favourable change had been quite 
recent, and that a few days before there had been a fall of 
snow. After devoting a day to the city, its cathedral and 
the improvements, we again took the rail, the line from 
Milan to Venice, bound for Lake Iseo. At Palazzolo, the 
second station beyond Bergamo, we alighted, took a local 
conveyance, and were soon at the "Albergo del Leone," 
Iseo, the distance being about eleven miles. 

The Italian lakes — Garda, Iseo, Como, Lugano, Mag- 



THE GEOLOGY OF THE ITALIAN LAKES. 585 

giore, and Orta — occupy deep basins or depressions at 
the southern base of the Alps, as the Swiss lakes 
occupy similar depressions at the foot of the Alps to the 
north. The principal difference is that the south side 
of the Alps is much more precipitous than the north, 
so that the Italian lakes lie on a line, immediately at their 
base, whereas the Swiss lakes are at the extremity of 
valleys, which extend some distance from the great moun- 
tains. In both cases these lakes are formed by rivers 
that descend south and north from the snow and glacier- 
covered mountains, and from all of them great rivers 
depart, carrying away their overflow. According to the 
most recent geological views, these lakes, even where one 
or two thousand feet deep, have been scooped out, in 
former geological epochs, by glaciers descending along the 
valleys at the termination of which they lie. 

The longitudinal valleys, lying due north and south, 
in which the Italian lakes are situated, are not only pro- 
tected from the north by the higher Alps, but also from 
the north-east by descending spurs that occupy their 
eastern shores, and from the north-west by the Alps of 
Savoy, which take a south-westerly course. 

This peculiar protection from all north winds gives 
them a totally different climate to that of the plains of 
Piedmont and Lombardy, which we had just left. It 
seemed as if we had repassed the Apennines, and had once 
more reached the Riviera and summer. For some miles 
before we arrived at Iseo the vegetation was again that 
ol June, and the gardens were full of early summer flowers; 
the Hazel, the Willow, the Poplar were in full foliage, the 
Fig trees were in leaf, and the Vines had made shoots 
several feet long. 

Lake Iseo is a small, picturesque lake, but little fre- 
quented as compared with its larger neighbours, Garda, 
Como, and Maggiore. It is about fourteen miles long, 
and from two to three broad, and lies immediately at the 
toot of the Alps, to the north-east of the town of Bergamo, 
and to the west of Garda, the largest of the Italian lakes. 

The town of Iseo is a mere large Italian village on the 
borders of the lake, and the " Albergo del Leone" is a very 



586 THE ITALIAN LAKES. 

unpretending establishment. The rooms, however, which 
are tolerably clean and comfortable, immediately overlook 
the lake, the scenery of which, as viewed from the inn, or, 
indeed, from any point, is exquisitely beautiful. From 
the shores rise, more or less abruptly, mountains several 
thousand feet high, which, at the northern extremity, 
rapidly merge into the snow-clad summits of the high 
Alps. This lake, indeed, struck me as peculiarly lovely, 
quite as much so as its better-known companions; it is 
perfectly embosomed in mountains, which in one region 
rise all but abruptly from the deep waters, whilst in another 
they slope more gradually, presenting on their sides luxu- 
riant groves, smiling vineyards, verdant pasturage, and 
numerous villages. 

These villages — white, clean, and picturesque at a 
distance, whatever they may be when seen closely — dot 
the hill-side at every mile or half-mile, wherever the slope 
is not too great to prevent cultivation. Evidently the 
southern sun enables their inhabitants to extract the 
elements of life— corn, wine, and oil — from the very rock 
itself. Thus, the mountains, which in our climate would 
only support a few sheep and cattle, in this favoured region 
maintain a teeming population. It is the same at all 
the Italian lakes; wherever the mountain is not per- 
pendicular, there are villages on the mountain-side, with 
their white-turreted churches, every half-mile. There they 
lie, basking in the sun as it were, nearly all the year 
round, little knowing the privations and hardships that 
are endured by their fellow-mountaineers, living on the 
north side of the mountains that limit the horizon, only a 
few miles distant. 

The charm of Lake Tseo, in my eyes, consists in its not 
being such a sea of waters as the larger lakes, Garda and 
Maggiore. It resembles one end of Lake Como, and has the 
some kind of beauty, that of a fine expanse of water, the 
opposite shores of which are easily discernible, although 
reaching north and south as far as the eye can penetrate. 
Then there is a peculiar fascination about these southern 
but yet Alpine waters ; the sky is pure and blue in fine 
weather, such as we had all but invariably, and the air is 



LAKE ISEO — AN ISLAND. 587 

fresh and clear, much more so than it is with us on our 
finest summer days. Thus all objects in nature stand out 
distinctly on the horizon, and the most distant mountains 
are seen with the naked eye almost as well as with a 
telescope. 

The scene was truly enchanting as we sat on a small 
terrace in front of our inn, against which the tiny wavelets 
bruke with a gentle rippling sound. Before us was the 
clear lake, studded with little fishing-boats and with large 
market and ferry-boats crossing from Pretore, on the oppo- 
site side. Beyond the lake was the mountain, its flanks 
dotted with white villages, whilst between, at a distance 
of some two miles, a large island rose boldly a couple of 
hundred feet above the surface of the waters. 

In the afternoon we took a boat, and were gently rowed 
to this island. On landing at a little pier we found our- 
selves in the midst of a fishing village, one of the prettiest 
and most picturesque I ever saw ; it was the most charm- 
ing combination possible of the Alpine, fishing, and Italian 
village. Quaint gabled cottages, picturesque costumes, 
nets hanging to dry from every house, black-eyed, black- 
haired maidens, chubby, rosy, half-naked children, old 
wrinkled women with their distaffs, like the Fates of the 
heathen mythology, and fine old men with flowing white 
locks, the Nestors of the village. We were evidently a 
source of great curiosity to them, for they all came out of 
their houses, and stood in a line looking at us; the village 
had only one row of houses along the shore of the lake. 
Young maidens smiled and laughed and smiled again, the 
elders looked demure but inquisitive, whilst the children, 
as usual, followed in a group. They were clearly desirous 
to get a good view of the strangers, whose advent produced 
quite a sensation. 

At the end of the village we found rich undulating 
meadows on the margin of the lake, the northern end of 
the island. The grass was knee deep, and enamelled with 
innumerable flowers — Primroses, Violets, Hepaticas, But- 
tercups, and a hundred others, The Mulberry trees were 
in leaf, and the Vines trailing from tree to tree were 
beginning to be covered with foliage, and to assume a 



588 THE ITALIAN LAKES. 

grace which they have not when leafless. We were sorry 
to depart, but the afternoon was on the wane, and we 
were obliged to leave the " lonely isle" in the midst of 
Lake Iseo. 

We soon got into the way of lounging on the waters, 
than which nothing can be more delightful, especially 
when surrounded by grand and beautiful scenery. It is 
certainly the height of idle enjoyment to sit or lie com- 
fortably in a boat, gently impelled over the water in the 
midst of a magnificent landscape illuminated by the 
glory of the southern sun. Nor can anything be devised 
more conducive to health for an invalid ; it is exercise 
without fatigue, and enjoyment without exertion, combined 
with pure air and sunshine. Time glides away imper- 
ceptibly, especially if the excursion is shared with two 
or three agreeable companions, home is reached with a 
good appetite, and a sound night's rest generally follows. 

Having explored the part of the lake near Iseo, we 
determined to make an excursion to Lovere, a town at the 
head of the lake^ some ten miles distant, and started after 
breakfast in a large boat rowed by two men. Our course 
was prosperous, and we were entranced with the in- 
creasing beauty of the shores of the lake and of the 
mountains by which they are limited, as we approached 
the upper extremity. On rounding a promontory, we 
found ourselves in a kind of secondary circular lake, 
about eight miles in circumference, at the bottom of 
which is Lovere. This little town is known in English 
literature as having been long the residence of Lady Mary 
Montagu, who gives a very glowing description of it in 
her correspondence ; it is prettily situated and clean, but 
not otherwise remarkable. We were shown to an inn, 
the " Ganone d'Oro," evidently the country palace of 
some Milanese nobleman in former days. There was a 
large interior courtyard, with peristyle and arcades, and 
grand frescoes on the walls representing all sorts of people 
and things. The rooms were vast in size, ornamented 
with half-effaced carvings and gilding, and the beds were 
" such beds ! ;; what they call in northern Italy te letti 
matrimoniali." We might call them family beds, for 



FISHING IN LAKE ISEO. 589 

they are at least twelve feet wide, and are certainly large 
enough for an entire family, father, mother, and children. 
They are only met with now in very old inns, in out-of- 
the-way places such as Lovere. 

In my youth I was an enthusiastic fisherman, and a 
little of the old feeling still remains, so in leaving for the 
Italian lakes I had put a couple of rods in my port- 
manteau, intending to depopulate their waters. I had 
repeatedly tried my hand since our arrival at Iseo, but all 
my Scotch lore appeared lost on its finny inhabitants ; I 
could not get a rise or a bite. It will, therefore, be easily 
imagined that I was much gratified to find that there was 
at our hostel an English gentleman who had been residing 
there for nearly two years, solely for fishing and shooting. 
I at once sent in my card, asking for an interview ; this 
was granted, and an invitation to go out fishing the next 
morning at six was eagerly accepted. I was punctual to 
the appointment, and we spent several hours together. 

My new acquaintance was fishing for a very large kind 
of bull trout, from ten to twenty pounds in weight, which 
inhabits the deep waters of the Italian lakes, and gave me 
much interesting information respecting it and fishing in 
general in this part of the world. 

These monster trout have been known to exist from 
time immemorial by the local fishermen, but were con- 
sidered to be all but inattackable until, a few years ago, 
an English gentleman taught the fishermen of Lake Garda 
how to catch them. In summer, when they are spawning, 
they are occasionally seen in shallow waters, but they 
then refuse to take any kind of bait, and in winter, when 
they are disposed to feed, they live in the deepest waters 
of these lakes, which are from one to two thousand feet 
deep. The depth of Lake Iseo is nine hundred, that of 
Garda one thousand nine hundred feet. 

My Lovere companion was fishing in the following 
manner : — The boat, a flat-bottomed one, was rowed by 
two men ; the line, of stout whipcord, was about three 
hundred yards in length. Four hundred feet were leaded 
at every ten feet, the terminal lead being heavier than the 
rest; a few feet from the bottom was a side line, about 



590 THE ITALIAN LAKES. 

twenty feet long, and similar side lines were attached at 
the first, second, and third hundred feet. These were 
baited with a small fish like a herring", abundant in the 
Lombard lakes, and called the fresh-water herring. The 
entire line was cautiously thrown into the lake, until 
about five hundred feet were immersed, so that the first 
bait was two hundred feet below the surface, the second 
three, the third four, and the fourth five hundred feet. 
The line itself was wound on a large winch or reel, 
fastened to a small framework, about two feet above the 
side of the boat. Once the line thrown over, the boatmen 
rowed us gently about. 

This time, also, our efforts, although directed by a 
skilled hand, proved ineffectual; but I did not regret 
the early rising, for the morning air was pure and fresh, 
and the lake was quite calm, as smooth as glass, and 
inexpressibly lovely, with its frame of grand Alpine moun- 
tains. There were other boats out on the same errand as 
ourselves, gently skimming the surface of the lake. My 
companion told me that if a boat, manned like ours, caught 
two, three, or four fish in a week's fishing, it was con- 
sidered very good sport, and paid the fishermen. The 
large trout are much sought after in the great cities — ■ 
Milan, Bergamo, Brescia — for ceremonial dinners, and sell 
at the rate of two or three francs a pound, the price paid 
to the fisherman being at least one franc. Thus, three 
fish, on an average, in the week, weighing from thirty to 
forty pounds, would make fifteen or twenty francs each for 
the two fishermen, more than they could get in winter by 
agricultural labour. My companion had been fishing all 
winter, and had marked on a gaff, as a tally, a notch for 
each victim ; I counted forty-seven. When he did not fish 
he employed his time in shooting wild fowl at the mouth 
and on the banks of the neighbouring river. He was the 
only Englishman within thirty miles round, and his soli- 
tary sporting existence was a source of great surprise to 
the Italian population ; he was another type of the roving 
Englishman. 

In winter this deep fishing can be carried on all day, 
but in the fine, sunny weather of early spring and summer 



FISHING IN SCOTCH LOCHS. 591 

the only time when there is a chance of catching fish is the 
first and last few hours of daylight. It is the same with 
us, there is nothing whatever to be done in the fishing way 
on a fine, warm, sunny, cloudless summer day. This fact 
alone renders it quite useless for invalids to visit the Italian 
lakes in spring or summer for fishing ; to have any chance 
whatever of success, they would have to commence opera- 
tions by four or five o'clock in the morning, and to stay 
out until dark in the evening, remaining idle all day, from 
8 a.m. to 6 p.m. Such a kind of life is only fit for strong, 
healthy men. 

Although there is an amazing quantity of fish in these 
lakes, the fishermen told me that there was no success to 
be expected in angling in April and May, as the fish were 
spawning. Later in the season fish are to be taken with 
rod and line, but even then only between four and seven 
in the morning and six and eight in the evening; in 
winter all the large fish take to the deep waters. 

For want of legitimate sport, when on Lake Como, we 
were reduced to a well-known poaching manoeuvre. I 
attached sixty flies to a line one hundred and twenty feet 
long, and carried it along the surface of the water between 
two boats. In this way we managed to catch a certain 
number of fish, averaging from half a pound to a pound 
and a half in weight, a kind of chub. They rose tolerably 
well, and I was told that a month later they would take 
the fly still more eagerly. Although it may be difficult in 
summer to catch fish by angling in the Italian lakes, 
owing to the intensity of the light and to the glare of 
the sun, it is certain that they must be teeming with the 
finny tribe, from the numerous fishing villages, fishermen, 
fishing-boats, and fishing-nets that are seen on the shores. 

Lake fishing is pursued under much more favourable 
conditions in Scotland. The cloudy sky and occasional 
showers which are the rule in " ultima Thule," even 
in midsummer, are propitious to piscatorial enterprise. 
Moreover, fishing can generally be undertaken and carried 
on in the daytime, between breakfast and dinner, without 
fear of the fish being driven to the bottom of the lochs by 
the glare of the sun. The plan I generally adopt in Scot- 



592 THlE ITALIAN LAKES. 

land is to breakfast at half-past eight and to start at nine. 
I hire a good-sized boat, rowed by two men, who prepare 
the tackle whilst 1 am at breakfast, so that I can begin 
fishing without loss of time on starting. The boat is 
showed gently, at the rate of about two miles an hour, and 
at about a quarter of a mile's distance from the shore, 
usual ty the best fishing ground. I troll with three rods, 
one with a spoon and heavy tackle at the stern of the boat 
in deep water for large fish, the other two rods at right 
angles to the boat, right and left, one with flies on the 
surface, the other with a fresh or artificial bait a few feet 
below the surface. The reels are placed so as to be clear 
of all obstruction, in order that the line may run freely at 
the slightest touch. All thus prepared, I and my com- 
panions arrange ourselves comfortably on cloaks and rugs 
at the bottom of the boat, and what with conversation, the 
observation of nature, and books, the time passes pleasantly 
and rapidly. 

If a fish strikes one of the lines the reel gives a " whirr," 
and by the rapidity with which the line runs out the size 
of the fish may be pretty well judged. Instantly the book 
is thrown down, the rod is snatched up, and then begins 
the tug of war, often ending in the capture of a red and 
silver speckled denizen of the deep, a fine loch or sea 
trout, not only lovely to look at, but promising an agree- 
able addition to the day's dinner or to the next morning's 
breakfast. In a country where mutton — first-rate moun- 
tain mutton it must be allowed— is the all but invariable 
fare, for there is little else to be obtained in out-of-the-way 
places in Scotland, such an addition is most acceptable. 
In some of the larger Scotch lakes, such as Loch Awe, 
there is a large trout, called the bull trout, or Salmo ferox, 
very similar to the large trout of the Italian lakes. When 
caught by the spoon, the bait it takes most readily, it 
affords splendid sport, running out a hundred yards of line 
at the first start, and taking one or two hours to kill. 

At one, the boat is stopped for lunch at some pretty 
islet, or on some picturesque point of the shore ; by that 
time about eight miles of the shore have been leisurely 
passed. Half an hour or an hour are spent, lying on the 



FISHING IN SCOTCH LOCHS. 593 

sweet heather, eating and chatting, or exploring* the rocks 
and woodland. These wild spots on the Scotch lochs, far 
away from the haunts of man, are most fascinating in July 
and August. The grass is enamelled with flowers, Ferns 
grow out of every stony crevice, and thick green velvety 
Moss clothes the north side of the trunks of trees, covers 
stones near the beach, at the foot of the mountains, and 
on rocky mountains'' sides, wherever water is trickling 
down. At the margin of the lake, in low places, are hosts 
of bog plants, and amongst them the pretty Grass of Par- 
nassus, with its delicate cream-coloured flowers ; here they 
can be gathered and examined without fear of " malaria." 
The boatmen sit a little apart, eat their oatcakes and drink 
the mountain dew dealt out to them — a never-to-be- 
omitted ceremony on these occasions. Thus refreshed 
and renovated, the boat is regained, and if the loch is a 
narrow one, like Loch Awe, it is crossed, the rods and 
tackle carefully visited, the flies or bait changed if neces- 
sary, and the progress homewards commenced in the same 
way as in the morning. 

If the fish " rise," the three rods give plenty of occupa- 
tion, and there is very little time for reading, or even for 
conversation, beyond the expression of fear, hope, anxiety, 
pleasure, delight or vexation, according as the finny prize 
is secured or lost. If not, the boat glides smoothly on, 
sufficiently near the shore for every tree, every shrub, 
every heron standing quietly in the water watching for 
its prey, to be distinctly seen. The outline of the moun- 
tains, purple with heather in full blossom, the mists that 
gather along their sides, the clouds that form, break, and 
re-form in the sky — all are the objects of attention, often 
the subject of remark. Occasionally a ''•'Scotch mist " 
descends and breaks overhead as a brisk shower. For 
this we are quite prepared, and huddle together under 
cloaks and umbrellas, half-vexed, half-pleased, for the fish 
rise better after rain. The shower over, we emerge from 
under cover, like birds from under the foliage of an oak 
tree, and the wraps are dried in the sun, which generally 
shines forth after the rain. If a good-sized fish takes 
the bait whilst it is raining fast, there is a regular com- 



594 THE ITALIAN LAKES. 

motion. It will not do to lose him, and yet the necessary 
operations can only be carried on by despising all shelter 
and disturbing the snugness of the bad-weather arrange- 
ments, at which the ladies all but invariably complain. 

Things do not always go on smoothly ; little accidents 
and adventures occur, perhaps rather disagreeable at the 
time, but a source of merriment afterwards. A storm and 
adverse wind may rise when the boat is miles from home ; 
the waves may run so high, and the wind be so strong, 
even on these Highland lochs, that the vigorous rowers 
prove all but powerless to urge on the boat. We have 
then to land, fortunate if we can find a road, a farmhouse, 
and a cart with some straw at the bottom, in which to 
make our way home. Sometimes there is no regular road, 
no house, and the margin of the lake has to be skirted as 
best possible. On one occasion, on landing for the midday 
rest, I fell right into the loch up to the neck, but fortu- 
nately there were some charcoal-burners near, with a rude 
tent. I had to ensconce myself therein, amidst the laughter 
of my companions, whilst my clothes were dried, receiving 
no commiseration from any one. Only three or four can 
manage comfortably in one boat, but two or three boats 
can join, start at half an hour's interval, meeting at the 
same place for the midday rest. 

After a day thus passed on the waters it is very seldom 
that a good appetite is not brought back, and that a good 
night's rest is not subsequently obtained. There has been 
no fatigue, no excitement, and yet the entire day has been 
passed in the open air, in communion with an ever-beautiful 
nature. My taste for fishing first led me to try this life 
when I seriously broke down in health, and no plan that I 
have ever since adopted for the improvement of health has 
been half so beneficial. To my surprise, neither I nor those 
with me ever catch cold, although thus living on the 
water exposed to frequent showers of rain. It was this 
circumstance that first opened my eyes to the fact that 
colds are seldom caught when the thermometer is between 
55° and 65° Fah., whether it rains or not, as explained in 
a previous chapter. 

There are very few Scotch lochs where a settlement, such 



LOCH AWE AND LOCH MAEEE. 595 

as I have described above, may not be made, for there are 
comfortable little Highland inns on all of them. My 
favourites, however, are Loch Awe in Argylesbire, and 
Loch Maree in Ross-shire. Both are long and narrow, 
which renders it possible to fish both sides the same day, 
and both are in the midst of the most wild and beautiful 
scenery. In his way, Ben Cruachan, on the north shore of 
Loch Awe, three thousand feet high, is all but equal to any 
of the mountains which embosom the Italian lakes ; his 
beauty, however, is of a different kind — it is stern, severe, 
Ossianic. Rising as he does, at the head of his loch, he is 
ever before you, sombre and majestic. There are several 
little shooting and fishing inns on or near Loch Awe — at 
Dalmally, Cladich, and Port-Sonachan. 

Loch Maree is much further north and more difficult to 
reach, but it is better stored with fish, and especially with 
sea-trout. Loch Awe is by no means as well supplied with 
trout as it was some years ago, owing partly to the casual 
and unfortunate introduction, of pike into the lake. This 
tyrant or shark of fresh waters was unknown until about 
twenty years ago, when several were thoughtlessly placed 
into a small pond or tarn far away in the mountains, the 
overflow of which runs into Loch Awe. The young pike 
soon found their way down the tributary, took complete 
possession of the loch, and have greatly damaged the trout 
and salmon fishery. Moreover, a steamer has recently been 
introduced on the loch. It is a boon to tourists, but steamers 
seem to exercise an unfavourable influence in lakes, at least 
as far as the fish are concerned. Pike are fortunately still 
unknown in Loch Maree. There is a little inn at the lower 
or southern extremity of this loch, called Kinloch Ewe, 
which is comfortable, but a mile and a half from the head 
waters — rather a drawback. The scenery is even sterner, 
wilder, and grander than at Loch Awe, always excepting 
my favourite Ben Cruachan. 

At the head of Loch Awe there are a number of very 
picturesque islets, celebrated in the Highland traditions. 
On one of these islands called Inishail, or the Beautiful Isle, 
are still seen the ruins of a nunnery of the Cistercian order. 
Even in these wild northern regions the monks and nuns 

QQ2 



596 THE ITALIAN LAKES. 

of old seem to have shown their usual love of the beautiful 
in nature. I have often thought, when looking on the ivy- 
elad ruins of their former abodes, that in the barbarous, 
savage days over which we so love to cast a kind of false 
romance or glamour, sensitive, poetical, studious natures 
must have often been positively driven to the cloister to 
escape contact with the rude beings who surrounded them. 
Certainly the monks of old have shown that thorough 
appreciation of the beauties of nature which in our own 
times is specially the attribute of intellectual, cultivated 
minds. 

Another of these islands was the burial-place of one of 
the neighbouring Highland clans. An English artist 
recently lived for nearly two years on one of the largest, in 
a kind of log cabin or moveable house, which he brought 
with him. He wished to study nature in her various moods, 
angry and smiling ; to analyse wind, cloud, and storm, 
sunshine and zephyr, with a view to improvement in his 
art. He has written a pleasing book of poems on the isles 
of Loch Awe, and also a very interesting work descriptive 
of the loch, and of his studies thereat, entitled " A Painter's 
Camp in the Highlands." 

The mention of my favourite pastime has carried me far 
away from sunny Italy and from its smiling lakes, into the 
wild and sombre country of Ossian ; I must return to 
beautiful Iseo. After breakfast we started from Lovere for 
home, but were soon deservedly punished for despising local 
knowledge. Our boatmen told us the night before that we 
ought to leave at seven o'clock in the morning in order to 
reach Iseo before the " aura" arose. The aura, or slight 
breeze, is a wind that commences daily in summer about 
ten or eleven, in the south of the lake, and blows upwards 
to the north, that is, from the plains towards the moun- 
tains ; it is the representative of the daily sea-breeze on the 
coast. The mountains being warmed by the sun's rays, 
heat the air in contact with them ; it rises to higher atmo- 
spheric regions, a vacuum is formed, and cooler air rushes iu 
from the plains of Lombardy to supply its place. The warmer 
the weather the more decided the aura or south breeze ; at 
night, on the contrary, there is a down-draught from the 



LAKE COMO — BELLAGGIO. 597 

mountains. These winds render the navigation of the lakes 
easy ; the boats and barges descend from north to south at 
night with the north land or mountain breeze, and ascend 
in the daytime with the aura or south breeze. 

We thought that by taking an extra rower we should 
meet the emergency of the case, but we were mistaken. 
We proceeded merrily, the lake all but calm, for the first 
hour, but about eleven o'clock, on rounding a promontory, 
we saw a mile ahead of" us a swell rapidly advancing ; it 
was the aura. It soon reached us, progress became laborious, 
and some of our party began to feel uneasy. We there- 
fore landed at a populous village, — there are such villages 
every few miles along the shore, — obtained a local convey- 
ance, and left the boat to its fate. 

A week passed rapidly at our pretty lake-side abode, 
most of the day being spent on the water, with benefit to 
mind and body, and then we departed — not without regret — 
for Bellaggio, on Lake Como. Bellaggio is easily reached, 
by rail to Lecco on one arm of the lake, and by steamer or 
private carriage from thence. This pretty village thoroughly 
deserves its Italian name, "beautiful residence." It is 
situated on a promontory that juts out into the middle of 
the lake, where the three arms or divisions meet, commands 
them all, and is one of the most enjo\ able positions on Lake 
Como. There are several good hotels, and the one at which 
we stayed, the Grande Bretagne, is a most comfortable and 
agreeable residence. The terraced garden in front descends 
down to the lake, and the views are truly splendid in every 
direction, mountain and sky blending everywhere in glorious 
harmony, with all the southern characteristics described 
when speaking of Iseo. 

Life at Lake Como is essentially te Lacustrine," if I may 
venture on so scientific a term, by which is meant that it 
is spent on the water, as at Venice. All excursions are 
made, all the palaces and gardens are reached by water ; so 
that the gondola or boat becomes, as it were, a part of one's 
existence. For my own part, not only did I join my friends 
in all their promenades and excursions, but when at home, 
in early morn and until late at eve, I made it — the lake — 
my abode. In leisure moments, and all were leisure moments 



598 THE ITALIAN LAKES. 

in these happy 'days, instead of lying on a cloak on the grass, 
musing, reading, or looking at the clouds, as at Mentone, I 
used to take a little skiff, with a pretty fringed, red and blue 
striped awning, and with or without a companion, I rowed 
into the lake, a mile or two from the shore. Then I laid 
down the oars, and, alone in the little world of waters, lying 
at the bottom of the boat, surrounded by all that is most 
lovely in nature, fanned by the real zephyr of the old Koman 
poets, I mused or read until social obligations obliged me 
to take up the oars and to return to the real but "flowery" 
life at the hotel. 

There are various palaces to see on the shores of the 
lake, which are principally of value as giving a motive for 
excursions. Pliny's villa would be very interesting if it 
could be shown, but although he had several on the shores 
of the Larian lake, " Hujus in littore plures villa? meae/' 
Epist. ix., the memory even of their site has not survived. 

The gardens of these palaces are much more interesting 
than the palaces, for they are full of very beautiful flowers, 
which give positive evidence of a mild climate, of mild 
winters, and of early springs. The principal feature in 
them, April 20th, was the luxuriance and great size of the 
Camellias, Azaleas, and Magnolias. The Camellias were 
growing in the open ground as bushes or small trees, from 
twenty to thirty i'eet high, covered with tens of thousands 
of white and yellow flowers ; the Magnolias were quite 
forest trees, like middle-sized oaks, and were white with 
huge blossoms. All our early summer flowers were in 
bloom and growing luxuriantly. There were Lemon trees 
planted, espalier fashion, in the open, but then they are 
covered up with mats all winter, and these mats had only 
been recently taken off, so that they looked very meagre 
and straggling. 

The recollection of my residence at Bellaggio, although 
so enjoyable in every respect, is saddened by an event 
which painfully reproduced former Naples experience. In 
the same hotel were an American gentleman and three 
young daughters. They came from Como on the same 
steamer as ourselves, one day that we had been there for 
an excursion, and I noticed on board that one of the young 



LAKES COMO— LUGAXO — MAGGIORE. 599 

ladies appeared to have a bad headache, and to be too ill to 
enjoy the scenery. The next day I was consulted by her 
father, and found to my deep regret that she presented all 
the symptoms of severe typhoid fever in its early stage. 
The family had spent part of the winter at Naples, and 
had only left it a few days previously. I did what I could 
for my young patient, a charming girl of nineteen, whilst 
I remained, and placed her in the best medical hands I 
could find when I left. She was very ill, but I thought 
her youth, medical treatment, and the pure air in which 
she was, would triumph over the disease. It was not to 
be, however, her young days were numbered, and I subse- 
quently heard that after our departure she got rapidly 
worse, and died in a few days. The poor girl was fatally 
poisoned by the deadly emanations of fair Naples, and only 
left it to droop and die. Most truly might it be said in 
her ease, and in similar ones, " vedere Napoli, e poi 
rnorire." 

From Como we went to Lugano, staying there a couple 
of days. The impressions of former visits were revived, 
and they are not favourable to Lugano; it has always 
struck me that this lake and its town have a cold, sombre, 
northern look. There is not about it the smiling grace or 
southern suuuiness of Como, Maggiore, Iseo. From thence 
we took a carriage to Lake Como, and the steamer across 
to Baveuo, where we again settled down. Lake Maggiore 
has all the charm of Como, but it is on a larger, vaster, 
wider scale, and the mountains that surround its southern 
shores are lower, less Alpine. The Borromeo islands, 
situated about a mile from the beach, near our abode, are 
interesting and picturesque, but do not certainly deserve 
their great reputation. The palace is second-rate, and the 
gardens are stiff and formal. 

From Baveuo we made an excursion to Lake Orta, a 
lovely little lake embosomed in the mountains, rather like 
the upper extremity of Lake Iseo, with a pretty town, 
opposite a picturesque, house and garden-covered, islet, at 
the southern end of the lake. We made also various 
excursions in the vicinity, with great joy and delight. 
Nature was everywhere glowing with extreme luxuriance, 



600 THE ITALIAN LAKES. 

all the trees were in full foliage, the meadows were up to 
the knees in grass, and the early summer flowers were 
strewn over the fields in wild profusion. Indeed, the earth 
was enamelled with flowers, and the rocks were fringed 
with ferns. Groves of the Osmunda regalis were growing 
on the roadside, and we were constantly stopping the 
carriage in childish delight, to climb up the high banks 
and secure new floral treasures. 

But all delights must have a term, and the day at last 
arrived when we had also to say adieu to Lake Maggiore, 
and to prepare for the great undertaking, the passage over 
the Alps by the Simplon. 

We had engaged a commodious vetturino carriage, with 
four horses, and started on one morning, the 4th of May, 
for Iselle, a village inn four hours from the summit, on the 
south or Italian side. The weather was beautiful when we 
left Baveno, and continued fine until we reached Iselle, 
where we found a good dinner and comfortable beds. The 
road from Baveno is very picturesque all the way, and the 
little inn of Iselle is placed in a most romantic situation, 
on one side of an Alpine cleft or valley, between stupen- 
dous mountains, with a brawling river in front, on the 
other side of the road, hurrying its foaming waters over 
large rocks and boulders, and frantically jumping over 
every obstacle and impediment ; we went to sleep that 
night to its lullaby. 

The next morning we were up and off betimes. It was 
raining, and from the moment of our departure the weather 
got worse and worse ; in an hour we reached the snow, 
and the rain changed to sleet. Then came cloud or mist, 
which only at times allowed us to catch a glimpse of the 
majestic scenes we were passing through, of the boisterous 
torrents, the riven rocks, the bleak snow-covered moun- 
tains, the fir trees, some laden with snow, bending under 
their burden, others dead, showing merely bare blasted 
trunks adhering to the mountain side. When we reached 
the summit, near the hospital/at midday, we were out of 
the rain, sleet, snow and fog, and the sky was clear and 
blue ; but we were in Siberia, in midwinter. The ground 
was hidden in a winding-sheet of snow, and the road had 



THE SIMPLON PASS. 601 

been cut through it to a depth of many feet ; in some 
places the wall of snow on each side reached much above 
the carriage. On descending, on the north side, we passed 
through numerous arcades or galleries, built to protect 
travellers from avalanches. Here we found sheets of ice 
underneath, above, on every side, gigantic, ridiculous 
icicles, ten or fifteen feet long, and as thick as the trunk 
of a good-sized tree ; we were indeed in the kingdom of 
frost. T was delighted with all I saw, for during 1 the 
winters passed in sunny Men tone, I had all but forgotten 
the look of snow and ice ; but it was bitterly cold, although 
we were in the inside of a commodious carriage, well 
wrapped up in cloaks. Two or three hours' descent, how- 
ever, brought us out of winterly weather, and we then 
found the sun shining nearly as brightly, and the weather 
nearly as fine as on the south side of the Alps. By six 
o'clock we were comfortably settled at Brigg, in the valley of 
the Rhone, and our excursion to the Italian lakes was over. 

The three weeks so delightfully passed on Lakes Iseo, 
Como, and Maggiore cleared up all previous doubts as to 
the spring climate of this part of Italy. Unless the 
weather whilst I was there was altogether exceptional, 
and I was told that it was not, invalids may safely make it 
their residence from the end of April until the end of May 
or June, passing from one lake to the other as we did. 
Lake Garda, the largest of all, is placed in the same 
geographical conditions, and is equally sheltered and sun- 
favoured, especially the upper or northern extremity, which 
is more immediately protected by the high Alps ; its shores 
are equally lovely. 

During our three weeks' tour we had rain only once, at 
Iseo. Then it was heavy, and lasted twenty-four hours, 
with a southerly wind, but the thermometer, previously 
always about 64° indoors, only went down to 60°. I was 
told that very often there is a great deal of rain in April, 
but that it is never cold rain. I presume it usually comes 
with south winds, as was the case when we were there, and 
if so it can do no harm, even to those suffering from chest 
affections. It is well, however, that travellers who intend 
spending a few weeks on these lakes in the spring should 



602 THE ITALIAN LAKES. 

previously know that in some years rain thus falls, in April 
and in the early part of May, frequently and continuously * 
they must, therefore, make up their minds to run the risk. 
If it does not rain at this time of the year, the weather is 
really heavenly • the air is pure, fresh, cool, clear, soft, and 
the sky is blue, with fleecy clouds sailing over it, or lying 
in white masses on the high Alps. The sun shines brightly 
but not too fiercely, whilst the higher mountains are still 
covered with snow, the emblem of departing winter, snow 
so brilliantly white that it fatigues the eye to look upon it 
for any length of time. In such an atmosphere, among 
such beautiful scenery, mere existence is an intense pleasure. 

The passage over the Simplon at the end of the first 
week in May, in an exceptionally favourable season, has, at 
the same time, entirely dispelled any doubts I may have 
had as to the advisability of chest sufferers returning to 
the north of Europe in spring over any of the Alpine 
passes ; it is simply folly even to contemplate it. To pass 
through such a scene of wintry desolation as I have faintly 
traced, to remain from six to eight hours in cold rain, sleet, 
fog, mist, snow, and ice, is an unpardonable imprudence for 
such persons; it is risking all the benefit gained by the 
sacrifices and care of the previous six months. Bronchitis, 
pleurisy, pneumonia, a break up of diseased lung tissue, and 
a renewal of arrested disease, may be the result. Chest 
invalids who visit the Italian lakes must either remain 
there until the middle of June, until the summer has cleared 
the high mountains from snow, and until fine clear Alpine 
weather has set in, or they must return to the north by 
Turin and the Mount Cenis tunnel, now completed and 
open. The Mount Cenis tunnel is so well ventilated, owing 
to there being a difference of level of nearly three hundred 
feet between the entrance and the exit,, that no fear need 
be entertained even by an invalid. The only drawback is 
that foreigners insist on closing the windows, and as the 
passage takes thirty minutes, suffocation is apt to come on 
for want of respirable air. In reality they may be open, 
two or three inches on each side, without any risk whatever, 
indeed with positive and decided advantage. 

The next day we left Brigg, descended the valley of the 



BRIGG — THE VALLEY OF THE RHONE. 603 

Rhone, skirted the Lake of Geneva, and reached the town 
of that name. Geneva, like Paris and Marseilles, is being 
all but rebuilt, transformed. We found that spring had 
also commenced along the verdant shores of the lake, but 
not the spring we had left on the Italian side of the Alps. 
It was evidently still rather too early a period of the year, 
May 6th, to be quite safe as a residence for chest invalids 
who have spent the winter in the south. 

Sometimes the Swiss lake valleys are verdant, mild, and 
spring-like at this epoch, early in May. Fine, mild spring 
weather, however, can no more be depended upon, for a 
continuance, thus early in Switzerland, than it can in our 
own more northern climate. If the wind turns to the 
north the weather may become cold and bleak in the 
second or third week of May, or even later, as I have 
personally experienced. 

The Swiss themselves are aware of this meteorological 
fact, and the Swiss families that spend the winter in the 
South never think of returning until the middle of May. 

It is a pity that the uncertain character of the Swiss 
climate in early spring is not more generally recognised. 
So far from such being the case it seems to be the general 
impression that by the middle of April summer has arrived 
at Yevay, Montreux, and other similar places on the Swiss 
lakes. Hence thousands of winter emigrants, especially Ger- 
mans, every year, leave the sheltered Riviera in April to settle 
on the Lake of Geneva, and often pay dearly for their error. 

This mistake is founded on the erroneous idea, very 
generally entertained in the north of Europe, that the 
Lake of Geneva has a very mild, even warm, climate in 
winter, and especially Montreux, on the north shore. 
Compared with central and northern Europe, where rivers 
are deeply frozen, and where snow lies on the ground for 
many months every year, the north shores of the Lake 
Leman are certainly sunny and mild. But this mildness 
becomes real winter if compared with the Mediterranean 
Riviera, the undereliff of Europe. Nor can it be otherwise 
when we think that this lake and its most sheltered and 
protected nooks, are surrounded, in winter, for many 
months with ice and snow on every side. 



CHAPTEE XIX. 

BIAEEITZ AND AKCACHON. 

" Loud roared the dreadful thunder, 

The rain a deluge showers, 
The clouds were rent asunder, 

By lightning's vivid powers, 
The night both drear and dark. 
Our poor deluded "bark, 
Till next day, there she lay. 
In the Bay of Biscay." — Old Song. 

BIARRITZ AS AN AUTUMN AND WINTER RESIDENCE — SITUATION — 
CLIMATE — SEA BATHING — THE IMPERIAL RESIDENCE — ARCACHON. 

I have repeatedly visited Biarritz as a tourist, and in the 
year 1857 spent a very pleasant month on its shores (that 
of September), in order to enjoy the excellent sea-bathing. 
From that time forward I have often sent patients and 
friends to Biarritz, that they might benefit in autumn by 
the sea-bathing, and in winter by the climate — a decidedly 
mild one as compared with our own. 

Living at Biarritz is less expensive, it would appear, in 
winter, than in most of the southern sanitaria, a fact which 
makes it a valuable addition to our health "harbours of 
refuge." It is this fact that induced me to devote a 
chapter to Biarritz in the second edition of this work in 
1862, drawing the attention of the profession to its capa- 
bilities and value; since then it has advanced considerably. 
I was there in the spring of the year 1869, and found 
that many new houses and villas had been built, as also a 
very good and large hotel; the Hotel de France, an English 
church, a fine casino or club, and convenient sea-baths. 
Indeed, the resources of the town have been improved in 
every respect, and now several hundred English winter 
there every year. Most of the patients and friends I have 
sent have been satisfied with their winter's experience. 

The latitude of Biarritz is the same as that of Pau, 43° j 



THE L ANDES— BIARRITZ. 605 

that is, seven degrees more south than Torquay. This 
situation necessarily implies a warmer winter climate, more 
sun heat. The winter temperature of Biarritz is, I believe, 
pretty nearly the same as that of Pan. with perhaps a 
slight difference in its favour owing to the vicinity of the 
ocean. 

As we have seen, the proximity of the sea always renders 
the temperature of a locality milder and more equable. 
The existence also of an extensive tract of dry sand, such 
as constitutes the Landes, extending a hundred and fifty 
miles, from Bordeaux to Bayonne, implies paucity of rain, 
and the absence of that continued precipitation of moisture 
during the winter that characterizes the more northern sea- 
coast of France and England. We may deduce this fact 
from the arid dryness of the sandy plains of the Landes of 
France, whether it be that this part of France is still within 
the range of the scanty Mediterranean rainfall, or that the 
mountains of north-western Spain precipitate part of the 
moisture brought by the south-westerly Atlantic winds. 

Biarritz has hitherto only been noticed by writers on 
climate as a favourite summer and autumn watering-place, 
hut I believe, from the above facts, from the testimony of 
others, and from my own investigations, that it has also 
claims to be accepted among the eligible winter stations 
of the south. As stated above, there are social reasons, 
also, that make it worthy of notice. 

Owing principally to the favour of the late Imperial 
family Biarritz has become one of the most frequented and 
most fashionable seaside watering-places in France ; hence 
a great influx of sea-bathing visitors in summer and 
autumn. To provide for their wants, numerous hotels and 
houses have been built, and an active and extensive system 
of commissariat has been established. 

Once the summer sea-bathing visitors are gone, the 
hotels and houses are nearly empty, and the supplies find 
no market. The result is, that in winter Biarritz is as cheap 
a place to live in as it is expensive in summer and autumn. 
This state of things will probably long continue, for the 
summer development is certain to greatly outstrip the 
winter requirements, even were it to become a winter 



606 fcIA.RttlT& 

colony like Pau, Nice 3 and Mentone. To persons requiring 
a southern climate whose means are limited, and who are 
therefore obliged to consider every expense, this con- 
sideration may be one of primary importance, 

It is impossible that a town situated on the boisterous 
Bay of Biscay can be equal in point of climate to the 
Riviera undercliff, or to the east coast of Spain, in cases 
of severe disease in which the best climate that can be 
found is required* But still there must be many cases in 
which the sunshine, and mild temperature of the south- 
western coast of France may be sufficient. Moreover, the 
question of expense is often, unfortunately, a paramount 
consideration. 

Biarritz is picturesquely situated five miles south-west 
of Bayonne, at the bottom of the Bay of Biscay, a short 
distance only from the Spanish frontier. It has long- 
been resorted to by the inhabitants of Bayonne and of 
the Pyrenean district, in summer, for its excellent sea- 
bathing. It was, however, all but unknown to fame until 
the Empress Eugenie brought it into notice by making it 
her marine autumnal residence. Notwithstanding imperial 
patronage, the position of Biarritz is so secluded, and the 
distance from the French capital is so great— -523 miles — 
that both its natural and medical advantages and capa- 
bilities are as yet only partially known and appreciated. 

The climate of Biarritz is modified by its geological as 
well as by its geographical position. From Bordeaux to 
Bayonne, a distance from north to south of some 150 
miles, and penetrating inland to a considerable depth, 
extend the vast sandy plains to which the French give the 
name of Landes. This district, which has an area of 
3700 square miles, is often called a desert, but in reality 
it is merely an immense moor, and is covered with pretty 
nearly the same vegetation as our own moorlands, heather, 
ferns, gorse, and pines. The climate, however, being very 
much warmer and drier than our own, the vegetation is 
much less luxuriant, more stunted and more thinly scattered. 
The sand lying on clay in many parts of its extent there 
are marshes or ponds. 

Indeed, the Landes of France may be said to occupy a 



CLIMATE IN SUMMER. 607 

medium position between the heather and fir-clad sandy 
moors of Surrey, for instance, and the arid shores of 
Eastern Spain or the deserts of Africa, where a greater 
decree of heat and dryness all but entirely destroys even 
the vegetable tribes that are peculiar to such soils. This 
sandy tract is of course remarkable for the warmth of its 
temperature, which in summer is intense. Although it 
ceases at the Ad our, a river which passes through Bayonne, 
and which throws itself into the sea between that city 
and Biarritz, it exercises a considerable influence over 
the climate of the strip of tolerable land, some fifteen or 
twenty miles in depth, which extends from the Adour to 
the foot of the Pyrenees. Thus Biarritz, although out of 
the district of the Landes, participates to a certain extent 
in the summer heat and the winter mildness of that part of 
the Gascony of former days. 

The heat of summer is .tempered at Biarritz by a sea- 
breeze which constantly blows inland during the day, and 
by its situation on a different geological substratum — viz., 
sandstone rocks. The Biarritz lighthouse is built on the 
first sandstone projection which appears south of the 
Adour, the coast of the Landes being formed by low 
ridges of sand. The village of Biarritz is situated on 
two small bays, which occupy the centre of the Bay of 
Biscay, formed on the north-east by the low coast of 
France, and on the south by the base of the Pyrenees and 
by the province of Biscay in Spain, into which the Pyre- 
nees extend, rising tier over tier. 

As the coast at Biarritz attains a considerable elevation, 
and the two small bays are strewn with large rocks, 
honeycombed by the ceaseless action of the powerful 
Atlantic swell, the character of the scenery is highly pic- 
turesque. The coast with which I should feel the most 
inclined to compare it is that of Ilfracombe, in North 
Devon. It has not, it is true, the stern grandeur which 
the geological formation there imparts to that beautiful 
spot, but in some respects it is even more irregular and 
wild. The friable nature of the sandstone rocks offering 
less resistance to the action of the Atlantic, they are ex- 
cavated and fretworked into every conceivable shape. 



608 BIARRITZ. 

During my residence at Biarritz, the weather, until the 
end of September, was fine ; no rain falling except during 
the night, on two or three occasions. The sky was clear, 
generally cloudless, the sea blue, and the sun powerful, so 
much so as to render a sunshade all but indispensable 
between nine a.m. and five p.m., when walking in the sun. 
The wind varied between S.W., S., and S.E, When in 
the S.W., which, was mostly the case, there was always a 
heavy sea rolling in from the Atlantic or rather from the 
Bay of Biscay. When in the S.E., which only occurred for 
a few days, the sea was much calmer, On one occasion, 
for forty-eight hours the wind was due south. During 
this time the heat was very oppressive, although the ther- 
mometer only rose one or two degrees, from 74° or 75° to 
76°. I was told that such was always the case in summer 
when the Vent d'Espagne, or south wind, reigned, and that 
it was feared like the scirocco on the Mediterranean coast, 
to which it was compared. The thermometer in a cool, 
shaded room varied from 70° at night to 72°, 74°, or 76° in 
the daytime, until the weather broke up on the 26th, when 
it descended to 70° early in the morning, and to 68° later 
in the day, at 4 p.m. The temperature of the sea-water 
I found generally to coincide with that of the morning 
atmosphere, in deep water at some little distance from the 
shore. 

The beach, as is usually the case on such coasts, is a 
firm, smooth sand, peculiarly adapted for bathing. There 
are three distinct sites for the purpose : the Cote du Mou- 
lin, the Cote des Basques, and the Port Vieux. The two 
former are rather exposed situations, on the sides of the 
small bays, and at both there is generally a considerable 
swell. The beach shelves gently, and the bathing is 
excellent ; but waves rolling in rapid succession have to 
be encountered, which to the weak and delicate is rather 
fatiguing, especially if the sea is rough. 

The Port Vieux is a species of natural amphitheatre in 
the midst of the rocks, opening to the sea. In front of 
the open or stage part, at less than a quarter of a mile 
distant, there are several huge rocks, which form a natural 
breakwater. One of them, called the Grand Rocher, is so 



CLIMATE IN AUTUMN — BATHING. 609 

large that the sea only breaks completely over it in very 
rough weather. Thanks to the protection thus afforded, 
at low tide the sea in the Port Vieux is all but calm, and 
at high tide only agitated, in ordinary weather. The Port 
Vieux is the favourite resort both of the bathing and non- 
bathing visitors at Biarritz. 

Around the concavity of the amphitheatre, facing the 
sea, as the boxes of a theatre face the stage, are a number 
of small cabins, built on piles, about four feet from the 
ground. Those on one side are devoted to the ladies, and 
those on the other side to the gentlemen. The back 
entrances of the cabins abut on the cliffs, which rise 
abruptly to a considerable elevation. On the beach, 
between the cabins and the sea, — in the pit, as it were,— 
are placed chairs, which are occupied in the morning by 
nursery maids and children, and in the middle and latter 
part of the day by the more fashionable visitors, who con- 
gregate to chat in the continental way, and to look on the 
aquatic appearance and performance of their friends and 
acquaintances, and of the public generally. 

Both ladies and gentlemen wear a " bathing costume.'" 
With the former it consists of loose black woollen drawers, 
which descend to the ankles, and of a black blouse or tunic, 
descending below the knees, and fastened at the waist by 
a leathern girdle. On leaving their cabins, they put on 
also broad-brimmed straw hats, and a wide waterproof cape 
which they keep on until they reach the water's edge, when 
it is taken off by the bathing attendant. This costume, 
like all picturesque costumes, makes the young and the 
pretty look younger and prettier, but certainly does not set 
off to the same degree the more matronly of the lady 
bathers. All, however, young and old, seem totally in- 
different on the subject, and pass smilingly before their 
friends and the spectators, appearing to enjoy every stage 
of the performance. Most ladies have an attendant, male 
or female, and many are, or speedily become, very expert 
swimmers. They are to be seen daily swimming, with or 
without companions, at a considerable distance from the 
shore. The beginners use corks or gourds tied under their 
arms, but the more experienced discard all such aid. 

E, E 



610 BIARRITZ. 

The gentlemen's dress is a kind of sailor's costume, and 
as custom gives them more latitude with respect to colour, 
material, and make, great varieties are observed. The 
exquisites of the place seem to take a pride in showing 
themselves off thus prepared for their marine gymnastics. 
I have often seen them, cap in hand, feet and ankles naked, 
talking to their lady friends sitting around, previous to 
taking their first plunge. Once in the water, all the 
bathers, male and female, mingle together; the timid 
remaining near the beach, and the bold and learned in 
the art of swimming striking out into deep water. The 
utmost decorum, however, prevails ; the husband assists his 
wife, the father his young daughters, but strangers keep at 
a respectful distance in the water, as they would on dry land. 

At first, this aquatic mingling of the bathers strikes the 
English beholder as an infringement of the laws of pro- 
priety and decorum, but a more close scrutiny brings the 
conviction that such is really not the case, — indeed, that 
this mode of bathing is infinitely more decorous and 
decent than that which is pursued on our own shores. 
The bathers are, to all intents and purposes, dressed ; 
and there is, in reality, no more impropriety in their wit- 
nessing each other's marine sports than there is in the 
members of a masquerade mingling in the streets during 
the Carnival at Rome or Naples. I may add that, once in 
the water, a light woollen or cotton dress is not felt, and in 
no way interferes with liberty of movements and with the 
pleasure of bathing. Indeed, when bathing has to be 
carried on in so public a place, a light costume of this de- 
scription is a great addition to the bather's comfort. 

The natives of southern countries remain much longer 
in the water than we do, and often make their bathing 
consist of various stages of going in and out, resting be- 
tween-times. This they can do with impunity, owing to 
the temperature of the water. When both the air and the 
sea are 74° or 76° Fahr., as was the case during the 
greater part of my stay at Biarritz, bathing is an inde- 
scribable luxury, and the inducement to remain in for 
more than a plunge certainly is very great. I believe 
that there is no danger in the moderate prolongation of 



VEGETATION — CLIMATE. 611 

the sea-bath, as long as no sensation of cold or chill is 
experienced. 

The vegetation around Biarritz gives evidence of a 
southern climate, without, however, being as characteris- 
tically southern as that of Nice. Nice is pretty nearly 
in the same latitude, but is sheltered from the north by 
the Maritime Alps. At " exposed " Biarritz the principal 
trees are Planes, the principal product, Indian Corn. The 
Tamarix grows very luxuriantly, and becomes a tree, some 
twenty or thirty feet high ; but there are no Orange trees,- 
gigantic Aloes, Opuntias, Palms, or Caper plants, as at 
Nice and along the Riviera. Ferns are very abundant in 
the lanes, of which there are many in the neighbourhood. 
They are paths, or cart-tracks, sunk a few feet below the 
level of the adjoining fields, and their banks are covered 
with ferns, mostly of the same species as those found in 
England. Heather grows freely also in the sandy soil. 

On the whole, Biarritz is a very enjoyable seaside 
residence, and presents some peculiarities and advantages 
which will probably render it useful to our countrymen, 
now it can be easily reached by the railroad from Paris 
to Bayonne, both as an autumn and winter resort. In 
summer the heat is, no doubt, greater than is agreeable 
to the natives of our isles, but in September and October 
the temperature is moderate, and suitable to the healthy. 
Those who cannot resort to our own coasts in July and 
August, and to whom a mild or warm temperature is 
essential, have thus the opportunity of still enjoying at 
Biarritz summer sea-bathing, at a time when with us both 
the sea-water and the external atmosphere are becoming 
chilly. 

The village of Biarritz, like all French seaside villages 
and towns, is built away from the sea, behind the cliffs 
which form the bay. All French maritime populations 
endeavour to shelter their homes from sea winds, which 
they seem to look upon as enemies to be avoided as 
much as possible. It is a straggling village, composed of 
two streets parallel to the cliffs, and contains no Marine 
Parades, no Marine Crescents, but a heterogeneous collec- 
tion of houses of all sizes and shapes, with booths in the 



612 B1AERITZ. 

middle of the streets, which give it the aspect of a fair. 
This appearance is kept up by the stream of people, many 
in Basque costumes, who pour in all day by the omnibuses 
from Bayonne, most of them merely remaining a few 
hours ; in other respects, Biarritz is a very quiet place. 

The late imperial residence, " the Villa Eugenie," is a 
small, rather naked French chateau — a miniature of the 
palace of St. Cloud. It presents the form of a parallelo- 
gram, the base being turned towards the sea, and is situated 
on the beach, on a terrace, partly artificial. From the 
drawing-room windows the view is truly marine; nothing 
is seen but the wide ocean, and some large rocks in the 
offing, against and over which the surge is constantly 
breaking. At high tide the sea bathes the foot of the 
terrace, and in rough weather the waves break over it, and 
cover the front of the house with their spray ; so much so, 
indeed, that considerable damage is occasionally done, and 
gratings have been placedat the bottom of the windows to take 
off the sea-water which dashes against them. One advan- 
tage the residents at Biarritz certainly possess over us of 
the Mediterranean, they have the rolling surges of the 
Atlantic, the daily rise and fall of the great Ocean swell, 
and the tempestuous waters of the Bay of Biscay to 
contemplate. 

The Bev. Mr. Crow, the English clergyman in 1862, 
informed me that in the month of January of that year 
the average of his daily observations, made at 8 a.m. on 
a north wall, was about 45° Fahr. The highest tempera- 
ture during that month at the above hour was 62°, the 
lowest 80°. In February there was some very cold weather. 
During seven days the highest temperature was 34° (at 8 
a.m.), the lowest 24°. With the exception of that week, 
the weather was glorious, the thermometer after January 
varying from 48° to 62°. 

These data are just what might be expected. Being 
situated in the south of France, on the margin of a vast 
tract of land in which, whatever the cause, less rain falls 
than further north, Biarritz must be mild, sunny, and 
comparatively dry in winter. Having, however, no moun- 
tain protection whatever to the north, it must also be 



RAINFALL — WINDS. 613 

liable, like Pau, to spells of cold weather when' the wind 
blows from that quarter. It has not behind it the screen 
of the Maritime Alps, nor has it the night radiation of the 
sun-warmed Riviera mountains. 

Dr. Chapman, an English physician, who long practised 
at Biarritz, states that the average rainfall during three 
years for the seven winter months, from the beginning of 
October to the end of April, was 25*81 inches, on seventy- 
six days. The rain is often very heavy, indeed torrential, 
several inches falling in the twenty-four hours. On many 
of the rainy days, however, the fall is very slight. 

The wind, when it blows from the south-west or north- 
west, is often furious. On my last visit on the 22nd of 
May, there was a gale from the south-west, and the wind 
was so strong that it was scarcely possible to stand against 
it. Indeed, in exposed situations, near the coast, scarcely 
any trees but the Tamarix and a few Conifers will grow, and 
they are stunted. The late Emperor's plantations on the 
hills behind his house have not thriven from this cause. In 
sheltered positions trees and flowers grow luxuriantly. I 
found Elms, Planes coming into leaf May 22nd, also Arbutus, 
Magnolia, Berberis. I found Camellias and Oleanders 
growing in the open ground. Roses, hybrid, tea, and 
Bengal, were opening into flower, as also Hydrangea, 
Delphinium, Silene, Stock, Peony, Verbena, Rhododendron, 
Geranium, Petunia. Beans were in flower, Peas in pods. 

The exceptional periods of cold weather to which 
Biarritz is exposed in winter explain its vegetation. 
Severe night frosts with a temperature of 20°, once in 
half a century, would destroy all the southern vegetation 
of the Genoese Riviera — the Lemon, the Orange, the 
Palms, the Cacti, and the Lycopodin. 

Although I do not think Biarritz altogether suited to 
consumptive invalids, who require a dry, bracing, mild 
winter climate, there are, however, many forms of delicacy 
and of actual disease, in which short spells of clear, cold, 
bracing weather, and the moisture of the Atlantic atmo- 
sphere, are not objectionable. Much colder weather has to 
be encountered in our English sanitaria Ventnor, Bourne- 
mouth, Torquay, also situated on the moist shores of the 



614 ARCACHON. 

Atlantic, than is met with at Biarritz during- even an 
exceptional winter, and yet their value is unquestionable. 
Probably Biarritz would do as well, if not better, but I 
repeat a drier and milder climate than is to be found on 
the Atlantic shores is certainly indicated in most forms 
of pulmonary consumption whenever it can be attained. 

Arcachon. 

Having often heard Arcachon, also in the Bay of Biscay, 
lauded as a winter resort for consumptive invalids, I deter- 
mined, in the spring of 1868, to visit it on leaving Mentone. 
A leisurely journey across the south of France brought me 
there by the 22nd of April, and I remained until the end 
of the month examining and analysing the locality. 

On this journey T had an admirable opportunity of study- 
ing the difference between the climate and vegetation of the 
Mediterranean basin and that of the shores of the Atlantic. 
I took ten days to pass from Mentone to Arcachon, only 
travelling twenty or thirty miles a day. The botanical and 
horticultural evidence of a comparatively dry climate, of one 
in which vegetation depended on winter and spring rain, 
and in which the summer heat was intense, followed me to 
Toulon, Marseilles, Montpelier, Cette, indeed through 
Provence, until half way between Cette and Toulouse. 
Then the proximity, or rather the influence, of the Atlantic 
became apparent. The water-courses were more numerous 
and better filled, grass meadows appeared, Willows and 
Poplars were frequently seen, and the sky lost the dry blue 
tinge of the Mediterranean to assume the whitish hue of 
the Atlantic atmosphere. 

Arcachon (lat. 44°) is now, like Biarritz, a fashionable 
watering-place, thirty miles south of Bordeaux, in the 
V Grandes Landes," on the margin of an immense salt- 
water lake, sixty-eight miles in circumference, which 
empties itself into, or communicates with, the Bay of Biscay 
by a narrow channel, only one mile wide. Formerly Arca- 
chon was a mere fishing village, lost in the dunes or sand- 
hills of the coast. These sand hills, half a century ago, 
were entirely denuded of tree vegetation, as was the greater 



PINE FORESTS — BATHIXG. 615 

part of the department of the Landes. To prevent the 
violent winds from the Atlantic carrying the moveable 
sands into the interior, the French Government, at about 
that period, had the sandhills on the shore, and the sandy 
plains in the interior, planted with the Pinus Maritima. 
These plantations have everywhere succeeded, and now the 
shores of the Arcachon lake, and those of the sea itself, are 
covered with fine Piue forests, that have effectually accom- 
plished the object for which they were designed. They 
have rendered the loose sandhills immovable, and thug 
arrested their progress inland. 

The presence of Pine forests, varied as we recede from the 
sea by deciduous trees, Heather, (xorse, Ferns, by wild 
plants and flowers, has changed, as by a magician's wand, 
the character of the scenery. Instead of a naked sunburnt 
melancholy coast, lined by soft moveable sandhills, we have 
one presenting all the charms of wild forest scenery. In 
the year 1854 some Paris capitalists, with M. Pereire at 
their head, saw the germ of a profitable speculation, bought 
up a large tract of land, and founded modern Arcachon. It 
is now a pretty sea-side town on the borders of the salt lake, 
with good hotels, picturesque villas, convenient and hand- 
some club-house and baths — indeed, all the appurtenances 
of advanced civilization. 

The summer town is built on the sandy shore of the great 
lake or sea, which affords excellent bathing. The lake itself, 
from its great extent and from its being land-locked on 
every side, offers every possible facility for safe boating, 
yachting, and fishing. A few hundred yards from the shore 
rise the Pine-covered sandhills, and here, in the midst of 
the forest, are the villas more especially built for winter 
habitations. A more lovely sea-side spot in spring and 
autumn, or even in summer, if not too hot, one more 
calculated to secure all the enjoyments of a sea-side resi- 
dence^ — bathing, boating, fishing, driving, riding, and 
walking — it would be difficult to find. I do not believe, 
however, that it deserves the reputation it has acquired as 
a winter residence for the consumptive, 

A minute analysis of all the physical elements of the 
question, and a careful survey of the vegetation, lead me to 



616 ARCACHON. 

assimilate Arcach on in most respects to Biarritz, situated 
in the same region, on the Bay of Biscay. There is the 
same moist Atlantic atmosphere, the same exposure to 
wind and rain with the prevalent south-westerly and north- 
westerly winds, the same liability to occasional severe cold 
in winter from want of mountain shelter when the wind is 
in the north. Arcachon has, however, in winter, the 
advantage over Biarritz of its Pine forests, as also that of 
being some little distance inland, on the shore of the great 
salt-water lake. The south-west and north-west winds 
are, consequently, less boisterous than at Biarritz, which is 
actually on the sea shore, facing the sea. The Pine forests, 
covering a considerable area, extending for miles in nearly 
every direction, also afford considerable shelter against 
wind for walks and drives. In this sense, therefore, Arca- 
chon is a better winter residence than Biarritz. But Pine 
forests, although they may afford a certain amount of pro- 
tection and shelter, do not prevent boisterous north- 
westerly or south-westerly winds being felt, as does a 
mountain range running east and west, nor do they 
modify the actual weather brought by such winds. 

If a mild, dry, bracing atmosphere, such as exists in 
winter on the Genoese Riviera and on the east coast of 
Spain is generally indicated in pulmonary consumption, 
it is not certainly in such a climate as that of the coast 
of the Atlantic, in the Bay of Biscay, that we can expect 
to find it. I would refer, however, to what I have said 
respecting the health features of Biarritz, merely adding 
that, in my opinion, neither the one nor the other offer to 
the greater part of consumptive invalids the climate which 
their disease requires. 

At the same time both Biarritz and Arcachon possess 
unquestionably, a more genial winter climate than any 
seaport in the British Isles. They are, also, immeasurably 
superior to any British or continental inland town in any 
form of disease requiring a rather mild and equable 
temperature, as a winter residence. 



CHAPTEE XX. 



THERMOMETRICAL TABLES AND REMARKS — MENTONE — THE 
NILE — MALAGA — MADEIRA — ALGIERS — GENERAL TABLE 
— CLIMATE OF ENGLAND — NO ESCAPE FROM WINTER 
NORTH OF THE TROPICS. 

TABLE I. 

Dr. Henry Bennet's Media, Mentone,for 15 Winters, 1859-74. 



|MIN. 


MAX 


J). 




mly. 


MAX 


T). 




MTN. 


MAX 


n. 


November. 








December. 











January. 












„ 1859 54*4 


61-4 




„ 1859 


44-8 


55-6 




„ 1860 


44-8 


528 




„ 1860 1 49-5 


60-9 




„ 1860 


44-3 


59-2 




„ 1861 


45-1 


52'4 




„ 1861 477 


60-3 




„ 1861 


43-4 


54-8 




„ 1862 


432 


507 




„ 1862 | 50-2 


61-2 


6-1 


„ 1862 


426 


54- 


6- 


„ 1863 


43-2 


52-4 


5-5 


„ 1863 1 50-5 


63- 


6-6 


„ 1863 


443 


61 -7 


6-5 


„ 1864 


38-2 


487 


6-3 


„ 1864 43- 


60-8 


61 


„ 1864 


44-2 


56-2 


6-1 


„ 1865 


43- 


55- 


7- 


„ 1865 , 50-8 


60 3 


32 


„ 1865 


43-6 


54'5 


45 


„ 1866 


43*8 


55-3 


36 


• „ 1866 50- 


62-3 


6-6 


„ 1866 


45-7 


557 


5* 


„ 1867 


43-8 


54-1 


4-6 


„ 1867 ! 47-9 


622 


6-2 


„ 1867 


41-6 


55*3 


5-8 


„ 1868 


42-3 


53-5 


5-1 


„ 1868 1 46- 


56*5 


5* 


„ 1868 


43-8 


58-7 


37 


„ 1869 


41-5 


533 


5-1 


„ 1869 i 46-6 


59- 


44 


„ 1869 


433 


547 


46 


„ 1870 


407 


53-2 


4-6 


„ 1870 , 43'5 


59 4 


33 


„ 1870 


42' 


52-1 


3-6 


„ 1871 


40-2 


51-6 


5- 


„ 1871 


43- 


576 


5'3 


„ 1871 


39-7 


50-3 


6- 


» 1872 


445 


553 


3-5 


„ 1872 


51- 


60-8 


4-7 


„ 1872 


43- 


567 


4'5 


„ 1873 


447 


54o 


4' 


„ 1873 


48-8 
49-2 


56-3 
601 


4'9 


„ 1873 


47-1 


567 


7- 


„ 1874 


43-4 


529 
53- 


6-2 
5'5 


Media 


5-1 


Media 


«* 


55-1 


5-4 


Media 


42-8 





MIN.MAX 


D. 




min.'max 


T). 




MIN. 


MAX 


D. 


Februarv. 


! 





March. 


■ 





April. 











„ 1860 


40- 55'9 




„ 1860 


44-9 ! 598 




„ 1860 


512 


67-5 




„ 1861 


457 i 52-9 




„ 1861 


444 ! 58-9 




„ 1861 


49-8 


66-9 




„ 1862 


41-9 55-8 




„ 1862 


467 | 619 




„ 1862 


51-2 


68-5 




„ 1863 


42-3 54-1 


8-5 


„ 1863 


45-4 ! 58 9 


6-9 


„ 1863 


50-9 


67- 


5-6 


„ 1864 


41-9 j 53-6 


6- 


„ 1864 


45-4 | 62- 


5-3 


„ 1864 


51-8 


66' 


5-4 


„ 1865 


40-1 I 54- 


8-3 


„ 1865 


40-5 57 3 


8-4 


„ 1865 


55-1 


66' 


6-6 


„ 1866 


46-5 611 


4-1 


„ 1866 


44- 


60'6 


4-1 


„ 1866 


49' 


669 


5' 


„ 1867 


45-4 ' 56-9 


4-5 


, 1867 


47-2 


62*4 


4- 


„ 1867 


51-4 


68-4 


6-5 


„ 1863 


45- 567 


37 


„ 1868 


45-2 


59- 


4-9 


„ 1868 


49-5 


663 


4-6 


„ 1869 


46*6 58-3 


3-6 


„ 1869 


41*5 


567 


5-5 


„ 1869 


48-9 | 69-1 


45 


„ 1870 


43-4 554 


4-3 


„ 1870 


4-4 


587 


5'6 


„ 1870 


49-1 | 657 


6-8 


» 1871 


43-3 ' 55-9 


4-2 


„ 1871 


475 


61* 


5-1 


„ 1871 


51-3 67*4 


42 


„ 1872 


46-1 i 57' 


4-1 


„ 1872 


47-9 


60-8 


5' 


» 1872 


51-8 


68-5 


5-2 


„ 1873 


41-3 ' 53'8 


37 


„ 1873 


48-5 


61-2 


4-9 


„ 1873 


49-8 


60- 


49 


„ 1874 


43- 


54-6 


65 


„ 1874 


46* 
45-3 


567 


I 6*2 


„ 1874 


51-3 


60-5 
663 


4-2 
5-2 


Media 


43-5 


557 


51 


Media 


59-3 


43 


Media 


50-8 



Mean Min. for the Six Winter Months for fifteen years . . 45'9 

Mean Max. „ „ . . , 58*2 

Combined mean for the Six Winter Months for fifteen years 52' 
Mean of Dryness for the Six Winter Months during Twelve] 

Winters, as indicated by the difference between the wet I 51 
and dry bulb thermometers, marked D in the Table . J 



618 



THERMOMETMCAL TABLES. 



TABLE II. 

M. de Brea's Monthly and Annual Media for Mentonefor 
Ten Tears, 1850 to 1860. Dr. Henry Bennet's Media 
for the Six Winter Months, for Fifteen Years, 1859 to 1874. 
Combined Winter Media for 25 years. 



January 
February 
March 
April . 

May . 
June 
July . 
August 
September 
October . 
November 
December 



Annual 



it. de Brea. 


T)r ttPTinpt Combined Media 
Di.tfermet. for 2 5 years. 





o 


o 


48-2 . 


47-9 . 


, 48- 


48-5 . . 


49-6 . . 


49- 


52- . . 


52-3 . . 


52- 


572 . . 


58-5 . 


58- 


63- 


— 


— 


70- . 


— . 





75- 


— 





75- 


— 


— 


69- 


— 


— 


64- 


— 


_ 


54- 


54-6 . 


543 


49- 


49-6 . 


49-3 



60-8 Winter 52' Winter 51*7 



M. de Brea's Media were obtained by adding the obser- 
vations made at 6 a.m., 2 p.m., and 10 p.m., and then 
dividing by three, those of the ten years by ten. The 
maximum was 89°*6, the 3rd August, 1859. The minimum 
32°, the 22nd January, 1855. My own Media were obtained 
by adding the maxima and media of each month during 
the ten years of observation, and dividing each by ten. 

It is remarkable how very similar the results obtained 
by M. de Brea for the ten years from 1850 to 1860, are to 
those obtained by myself from the analysis of temperatures 
between 1859 and 1874. This similitude is the more re- 
markable as different modes of arriving at media were 
resorted to. M. de Brea, as stated, took his observations 
at 6 a.m., 2 p.m., and 10 p.m., deducing the media here- 
from. I only took the maximum and minimum, dividing 
the sum total to obtain the media. Such results show 
that the two methods are equally true — one series of 
observations all but exactly counterbalancing the other. 
The two series show also how very uniform the climate is, 



NILE— MADEIRA — MALAGA — MEXTOXE. 619 

when a sufficiently large number of } T ears are thus compared. 
The two Tables extend over twenty-five years. 



TABLE III. 

Mean Maximum Temperature in shade on the Nile, and at 
Madeira, Malaga, and Mentone, in January and February, 
1860. 

IN IN 

January. February. 

Nile _ 72 ... 75 

Madeira 66 ... 67 

Malaga 58 ... 58 

Mentone 52*8 ... 55"9 

Frost in Algeria in December, 1869. 

The following extract from the Gardeners' Chronicle of 
February 5th, 1869, will show what influence solar north 
winds can exercise over the south shores of the Medi- 
terranean : — 

An extraordinary frost has been experienced in Algeria. 
It appears, from a letter addressed to Dr. Hooker by Colonel 
Playfair, the British Consul- General, that the last three 
days of the old year, 1869, were very severe all over the 
country, but that in the neighbourhood of Algiers a hard 
frost prevailed, and sheets of ice were formed in the garden 
of the British Consulate — " a thing/' Colonel Playfair says, 
" not known since the French occupation of Algeria. - " The 
effects of this unusual visitation, in a country where many 
tropical plants flourish in the open air, has been to kill such 
introduced plants as Bamboo, Cherimoyers, Guavas, Bananas, 
as well as a good many other plants, which were growing 
in an unheated greenhouse, such as Marantas, Stephanotis, 
Allamandas, and Passifloras. Colonel Playfair says — "Truly 
this is a delightful climate to live in, but a most perplexing 
one for a horticulturist ; the heat of summer and the cold 
of winter, want of rain, siroccos, locusts, &c, are evils that 
no care can entirely guard against. The Musa Ensete is 
very much injured, but the Jaidin d'Essai lies so low that it 
is doubtful if it ever actually froze there. The garden of the 
British Consulate, on the other hand, is high and very cold/'' 



620 



THERMOMETMCAL TABLES. 



TABLE IV. 

Nile and Mentone Temperatures compared. 1860. 

The Nile observations are from Dr. Dalrymple's work on " Egypt." 





Minimum. 






Maximum. 




January. February. 




January. February. 


Nile. 


Ment. 


Nile. 


Merit. 


Nile. 


Ment. 
53 


Nile. 


Ment. 


1 


38 


46 


44 


41 


1 


67 


73 


56 


2 


39 


48 


43 


43 


• 2- 


65 


57 


74 


56 


3 


42 


50 


47 


37 


3 


65 


57 


83 


50 


4 


45 


52 


49 


38 


4 


73 


58 


85 


50 


5 


44 


52 


44 


36 


5 


76 


60 


80 


50 


6 


39 


51 


42 


38 


6 


75 


57 


85 


54 


7 


40 


47 


50 


40 


7 


77 


53 


67 


56 


8 


39 


43 


48 


40 


8 


75 


51 


66 


56 


9 


43 


43 


50 


37 


9 


82 


49 


68 


56 


10 


45 


43 


40 


42 


10 


70 


52 


64 


57 


11 


44 


48 


38 


43 


11 


69 


53 


75 


56 


12 


41 


48 


43 


41 


12 


75 


52 


77 


55 


13 


43 


43 


44 


38 


13 


76 


50 


80 


53 


14 


43 


43 


43 


39 


14 


79 


51 


81 


55 


15 


44 


46 


42 


38 


15 


66 


54 


84 


57 


16 


43 


43 


"50 


39 


16 


70 


51 


86 


57 


17 


51 


42 


50 


42 


17 


77 


53 


88 


55 


18 


49 


45 


55 


39 


18 


73 


53 


90 


55 


19 


44 


45 


40 


39 


19 


67 


53 


66 


57 


20 


45 


47 


40 


38 


20 


73 


50 


70 


55 


21 


45 


45 


50 


37 


21 


73 


51 


74 


54 


22 


45 


45 


45 


42 


22 


76 


53 


77 


57 


23 


51 


44 


50 


40 


23 


75 


48 


74 


55 


24 


50 


40 


40 


40 


24 


75 


50 


79 


57 


25 


50 


43 


40 


42 


25 


78 


49 


80 


58 


26 


51 


40 


49 


42 


26 


82 


50 


74 


57 


27 


4S 


40 


48 


42 


27 


15 


49 


65 


55 


28 


46 


42 


40 


43 


28 


71 


51 


65 


61 


29 


45 


41 


49 


44 


29 


76 


51 


66 


62 


30 


51 


41 


— 


— 


30 


75 


48 


— 


— 


31 


42 


42 


— 


— 


31 


82 


52 


— 


— 


Media 


44-6 


44-8 


45-2 


40-0 


Media 


72-8 


52-8 


75-7 


55-9 







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622 



THERMOMETRICAL TABLES. 



TABLE VI. 

TO ILLUSTRATE THE CLIMATE OF ENGLAND. 

Table showing the adopted Mean Temperature of every day in the 
year, as determined from all the Thermometrical Observations 
taken at the Royal Observatory, Greenwich, in the years from 
1814 to 1863, forty-nine years. 



Days 


























of the 


Jan. 


Feb. 


March 


April. 


May. 


June. 


July. 


Aug. 


Sept. 


Oct. 


Nov. 


Dec. 


Month. 




























o 





o 


© 


o 


o 


o 


6 


6 





o 


o 


1 


37-3 


37'8 


40-2 


44-6 


49-8 


57-0 


60-9 


62-4 


59*0 


53-9 


46-4 


42-1 


2 


37-0 


37-7 


40' 2 


44-8 


503 


57-3 


61-1 


624 


587 


53-8 


4fi*3 


42'2 


3 


36-7 


37-8 


40-2 


45 '0 


50 '8 


57-4 


61-3 


62 4 


58-4 


537 


46*1 


42-3 


4 


36-4 


38-0 


40-1 


45 '2 


51-2 


57-3 


61-5 


62-3 


58-2 


53-5 


45-9 


42"2 


5 


362 


38-3 


40*1 


454 


51-5 


57-2 


617 


62-2 


580 


53-3 


457 


42-2 


6 


360 


38 6 


40-1 


45-4 


51'7 


57-0 


61-8 


62-1 


57-9 


52 '9 


45'5 


42-1 


7 


35-8 


38-8 


40-2 


45'4 


51-7 


57*0 


61-9 


620 


57-8 


52-5 


45 3 


420 


8 


35-7 


38-9 


40*3 


45-4 


51-7 


57 3 


617 


62-0 


57-8 


52-1 


45-0 


417 


9 


35-8 


38'9 


40-4 


45°3 


51-5 


57-7 


617 


62'1 


577 


51-8 


447 


41-3 


10 


359 


38-8 


40'6 


45-2 


513 


58-0 


61-8 


62*1 


577 


51-6 


44-4 


41-0 


11 


36-0 


38-6 


40-9 


45-1 


51-2 


58-3 


61-8 


62-1 


57-6 


51-4 


441 


407 


12 


36-1 


38-4 


41-2 


45'0 


51-2 


58-6 


62-0 


62-0 


57'5 


51*2 


43-8 


40-6 


13 


36'2 


38-3 


41-4 


44-9 


514 


58'8 


62 3 


61-9 


57-3 


509 


43-5 


40-5 


14 


363 


38-2 


41-5 


45'0 


51-7 


59-0 


62-5 


617 


57*2 


50-6 


43-2 


40-4 


15 


364 


38-1 


41-7 


453 


52-0 


59-0 


62'5 


61-5 


57-1 


50-3 


42-9 


40-2 


16 


36-5 


38-1 


41-9 


45-5 


52-3 


59-0 


62-4 


613 


569 


50-0 


42-6 


40-0 


17 


36-6 


38-2 


42-0 


45-7 


52-6 


59'0 


62-2 


61-1 


567 


49-8 


423 


39-8 


18 


36-7 


38-3 


42-1 


460 


52-9 


59-1 


619 


6J-0 


56-5 


49'6 


420 


39-6 


19 


36-9 


38-5 


42-2 


46-4 


53 3 


59-2 


61-6 


60 '9 


56-2 


49-3 


418 


39-4 


20 


37-0 


38-7 


42-2 


46-7 


535 


59-5 


61-4 


60-8 


56*0 


49-1 


416 


39-1 


21 


37-2 


38-8 


42-3 


47-0 


53-8 


59'9 


61-5 


607 


55-8 


48-9 


41-4 


38-8 


22 


37-4 


39-0 


422 


47-2 


54-1 


60 3 


615 


60 7 


55-5 


487 


41-2 


38-5 


23 


377 


39-2 


42-2 


47-4 


543 


60-7 


61'6 


60-6 


55-2 


48-5 


41-1 


38*1 


24 


37 9 


394 


422 


47 6 


54-6 


61-2 


617 


60-5 


55*0 


48-2 


41.0 


378 


25 


38-1 


39-6 


42-3 


47-7 


54-9 


61'6 


61-8 


60-5 


54-8 


47-9 


40-9 


37-6 


26 


38-3 


39-8 


42-5 


47-9 


55-2 


61-7 


61-9 


60-3 


54-6 


476 


41-1 


37-4 


27 


38*4 


39 9 


42'9 


48-1 


554 


616 


62-0 


60'1 


54-4 


47'3 


41-1 


37-3 


28 


38-4 


40-1 


43-2 


48*4 


55-7 


61-5 


622 


59-9 


54-2 


47-0 


41-3 


37-2 


29 


38 3 




436 


48'8 


560 


61-4 


62-3 


597 


54'1 


46-8 


41-6 


37-3 


30 


38-1 




44-0 


49-3 


56'3 


61-1 


62'4 


59-4 


54-0 


46-6 


419 


37-4 


31 


37-9 




44-4 




56-6 




62-4 


59-2 




465 




37 5 


Means 


36 9 


38-7 


41-7 


46-2 


529 


59-1 


61-8 


61*2 


56 6 1 


50-2 


43-2 


39-8 




























Mentone 


48-0 


49 


1 52-0 


58 


630 


m -o 


75-0 


75-U 


69-0 


64 


540 


49-5 1 



The mean temperature for the entire year : — 

England 49-03 

Mentone 60*8 



THERMOMETRICAL TABLES. 



623 



TABLE VII. 

Diagram showing the Mean Temperature of the Air for every clay 
in the year, from Observations made, from January 1; 1814, to Be- 
cember 31,1863, at the Observatory, Greenwich, forty-nine years. 



Dec. 

10 20 30 



Jan. Feb. 

10 20 30 10 20 2S 

I 



March. 

10 20 30 



April. 
10 20 3'J 



May. 

10 20 30 



June. 

LO 20 30 



July. Aug. 
10 20 30 10 20 3 



Sept. 
10 20 30 



Oct. 
10 20 3( 



Nov 
10 20 30 



Dec. 

10 20 















/ 




''Va 


















j 


f 


r 














K 




H J 


J 


¥ 












\ 


\ 


\ 


\ 


Vy/ 


A^ 




















\ 



10 20 30,10 20 3< 
Dec. ] Jan. 



10 -:o 30 

March. 



10 20 30 
April. 



10 20 30 
May. 



10 20 30 
June. 



10 20 30 10 20 30 
July. Aug. 



10 -20 30 
Sept. 



10 20 30 
Oct. 



10 20 30 10 20 
JSov. Dec. 



These tables are exceedingly interesting, affording an immense amount 
of information respecting the English climate. Thus they illustrate its 
mildness and equability, both in winter and in summer. In winter 
the mean is never below 35°, or three degrees above freezing, and only 
reach that level on four days, the 7th, 8th, 9th, and 10th of January. In 
summer it is never above 62°, and only reach that level between the 12th 
of July and the 12th of August. A glance also suffices to dispel the 
common illusions about spring. The 1st of May medium is 49° 8', which 
corresponds to that of the 17th of October. No wonder May -day should 
be cold and bleak ; the May-day of our ancestors was twelve days later, 
owing to the change in the calendar. 



624 THERMOMETRY AL TABLES. 

.REMARKS ON THE THERMOMETRTCAL TABLES. 

THE RETURN HOME. 

The analysis of the preceding Tables will substantiate the 
details I have given in the first part of this work respect- 
ing the climate and vegetation of the Mediterranean and of 
the Genoese Riviera, as illustrated by the Mentone amphi- 
theatre. 

My own Table gives the result of thermometrical ob- 
servations taken during the six winter months, from No- 
vember to April, inclusive, for fifteen years, from 1859 to 
1874. These observations were taken with care by the 
means of self- registering thermometers made by Negretti 
for scientific observation. I preferred taking maxima and 
minima to making observations at 6, 2, and 10 p.m., as 
did M. de Brea, whose results for the ten preceding years 
I give in Table II. As already stated, it is remarkable how 
very nearly we arrive at the same figures by these different 
modes of observation in the two successive periods. The 
Table speaks for itself, but I would add a few remarks in 
elucidation of the results obtained. 

The first winter that I spent at Mentone, 1859-60, the 
lowest night temperature was 35° on the 17th December. 
The thermometer never descended lower than 37° on any 
other occasion. In the second winter, 1860-01, the lowest 
point attained was 32° on two nights in December, the 22nd 
and 23rd. On no other night did the thermometer mark 
a lower temperature than 37°, as in the previous winter. 

In the winter of 1864-5, the first night that the ther- 
mometer descended below 40° Fahr., was on the 24fch of 
December. During that month, and the four following 
ones, the thermometer was below 40° on thirty-two nights 
only, viz. : — 

December 4 

January 6 

February 11 

March 10 

April 1 

32 



THERM0METR1CAL REMARKS. 



625 



Thus from the first night that the thermometer descended 
below 40°, December 24th, to the last, April 1st, or during 
122 days, it was 32 times below 40°. The two lowest 
temperatures recorded were February 22nd, 33° Fahr.; and 
March 25th, also 33° Fahr. My thermometers never 
reached the freezing point 32°, although it sometimes 
froze on these colder nights in exposed situations. Gene- 
rally, however, the thermometer on the cold nights was 
between 36° and 40°, and then it did not freeze anywhere. 

During the four cold months of this winter, 1864-5, 
December, January, February, and March, the wind was 
principally from the northerly quarter. It blew from that 
direction 84 days out of the 121 — leaving 37 for southerly 
winds. 

December .... 15^ 

February! '. '. '. '. 24 North winds. 
March 20 J 



84 

These days were all but invariably days of brilliant sun- 
shine, with a blue sky. They are the fine-weather days of 
the winter climate of this part of Europe. On the days 
when the south winds blew, there was nearly always cloud, 
and often rain. 

Thus, during the 121 days of the four winter months, 
there were 29 days of rain, and 92 days of fine fair 
weather. Of these rainy days, 20 occurred with south 
winds, and 9 with north winds : — 





RAINY DAYS. 




December 


. . 10 J South . 

(North . . 


. . 8 




. 2 


January . 


5 f South 
I North . 


. . 3 




. . 2 


February . 


. . 2 South . 


. . 2 


March 


-, 9 j* South 
' " 14, \ North . 


. . 7 
. . 5 




29 


29 




s s 





626 THERMOMETRICAL REMARKS. 

In all the winters that I have passed atMentone a great 
fall in temperature has coincided with polar storms and 
with extreme and unusual cold in the north of Europe. 
In 1859-60 the frost was very severe and prolonged 
throughout the north, when the temperature was low with 
us, and in 1860-61. the thermometer descended 40° below 
the freezing point in England, at the time we had cold 
weather. The cold was more severe this winter than had 
been known for thirty years throughout Europe. During 
the winter of 1864-65 there were also spells of exceed- 
ingly cold weather all over Europe, itivers were frozen 
over, and snow lay many feet deep on the ground, reaching 
the most southern parts of France. On one occasion, at 
the end of December, the railroad between Narbonne and 
Toulouse was buried in the snow, and many people lost 
their lives. In all these instances polar storms prevailed. 

Indeed I have always remarked at Mentone that ex- 
ceptionally cold and stormy weather has coincided with 
polar winds, and with violent storms and intense frosts 
in the north and centre of Western Europe. The Medi- 
terranean basin is clearly not out of the influence of 
extreme meteorological disturbances occurring in the 
northern regions of Europe. At those times we have 
generally a north-westerly or north-easterly wind, the 
sun is obscured by clouds, the higher mountains may 
be covered with snow down to the level of the olive- 
groves, and cold rain from the north may fall on shore. 
These are our worst days, but fortunately such weather 
never lasts more than a day or two. When on these occa- 
sions we receive newspapers and letters from home a few 
days later, we invariably hear of fearfully cold weather on 
land, and of storms at sea. Generally when rain and snow 
fall with a north wind the latter is from the north-west. 

It will be perceived that although the night minimum 
seldom descends below 40° during December, January, 
February, and March, it also seldom ascends above 50°, 
and is generally between 40° and 50°. The day maximum 
in the shade varies from 50° to 58°, although occasionally 
below 50°. This latter temperature always coincides with 
a low night temperature and an obscured sky, nearly 



THERMOMETRICAL REMARKS. 



627 



always with snow on the mountains and rain on the shore, 
and with north-west or north-east winds. 

A careful scrutiny of the tables of Mentone temperature 
brings out a peculiar and important feature every year re- 
produced — viz., the regularity with which the temperature 
descends in the autumn, and ascends in the spring. Often 
for several nights and days together, the night minimum 
and the day maximum reach exactly the same figures; 
they fall and rise gradually and uniformly. We must ex- 
cept the spells of bad weather just described, coinciding 
with extreme cold all over Europe, the result of north or 
polar hurricanes. The range of temperature, the daily 
difference between the minimum and maximum, is not 
great, seldom reaching more than 10°, an important point 
for invalids. Such a state of things constitutes an equable 
winter climate, although not so equable as that of the 
islands and of the south shores of the Mediterranean, where 
the difference is usually only from two to six degrees. 

The climate of England is very different. Few persons 
are aware how very uncertain it is, and how often, even 
in the summer months, the thermometer goes down nearly 
to the freezing point. The following is a reliable statement 
from the Gardeners' Chronicle, of Sept. 3rd, 1864. 

" From October 1st, 1863, to June 6th, 1864, at Worksop, 
Nottinghamshire, there were 164 frosty nights, and on 
46 more the register was under 40°. Thus for eight 
months and six days the register was only above 40° on 
36 nights. The frosty nights were : — 
"October 12n 

November . . . . 15 

December .... 24 

January 28 

February .... 26 Frosty nights. 

March 28 

April 16 

May 9 



June 



6 



164 
" In August cold nights again set in, and on the 19th, 

s s 2 



628 THERMOMETRY AL REMARKS. 

the thermometer fell to 27°; on the 20th to 35°; on the 
21st to 31°; on the 22nd to 26° ; on the 23rd to 33°." 

Thus is brought out the fact that the British Isles are 
really situated in a northern region, in the same latitude as 
Labrador on the North American continent, the seaports 
of which are closed by ice eight months of the year. It is 
the warm Gulf stream that gives us our exceptionally mild 
climate for the latitude. It is w 7 orthy of remark that in 
April and May at Mentone the wind is often in a southern 
quarter, and yet there is no rain. The wind is, however, 
only a gentle " aura," or zephyr, and the mountains are 
already so warmed by the sun that they are warmer than 
the wind. Under such conditions the sea remains calm, 
and there is no precipitation of rain. 

It is the minimum and maximum temperature of any 
given region that principally regulates vegetation, and also 
to a great extent climate. I believe, consequently, that by 
the study of vegetation only can we form a true idea of the 
real climate of any locality. If a thermometer is fairly 
placed according to the rules adopted by scientific meteoro- 
logists, and the instruments used are good, we may accept 
data given by this mode of observation. Thermometrical 
observations, however, are liable to error in all climates, unless 
extreme precaution be taken to avoid undue solar influences, 
reflected heat, and exceptionally protected situations. The 
same remark applies to the registration of wind. 

Media, drawn from the addition and division of maxima 
and minima observations and examined alone, are very 
deceptive. Thus the medium temperature of 80° as the 
day maximum, and of 40° as the night minimum is 60°, 
which would, taken alone, give a very false idea of the real 
climate of a locality. Where such media are observed the 
winter medium of 60° implies a mild climate, whereas it is 
made up of intense heat in the day, and of chilly cold at night, 
with a daily range of 30° or 40° as on the Upper Nile. 

It is impossible also to judge what a climate really is 
when " seasons" are only spoken of, and season media are 
given. Thus, October, November, and December are called 
the autumn season, and a high medium temperature is 
reached for the autumn quarter by its including the month 



THERMOMETRICAL REMARKS. 629 

of October, which is a warm month in most regions of the 
Mediterranean. The same remark may be made with 
reference to the winter quarter, which includes March, also 
a comparatively warm month, in the daytime at least, in 
these regions. The real winter on the shores of the Medi- 
terranean is limited to December, January, and February. 

Many observations in health localities likewise are made 
with a mental bias which invalidates them. Thus, had I 
made my observations at ten o'clock, a.m., seventy feet 
from the ground, and within the influence of reflected heat 
from the sun, I might have obtained a day temperature of 
nearly 60° throughout the winter. 

Dr. Dalrymple, in his interesting work on the Climate 
of Egypt, "* gives the minima and maxima for the months 
of January and February accurately observed in his Nile 
boat. The night minimum was a fraction lower than at 
Mentone during the month of January, 1860 (from latitude 
27° 13' to 22° 10'). During February the minimum 
mean was 5° higher, as will be seen by the comparative 
Table No. IV. (from latitude 25° 55' to 31° 46'), showing 
the more rapid advance of spring. The day maximum, 
on the contrary, was much higher during both months, 
being all but constantly between 70° and 80°, and some- 
times above 80°. The mean of January was as high as 
72°'8, that of February 75°*7. Such a range must be very 
trying, especially to chest cases — from 40° or 45° at night 
to 70° or 80° or even 90° in the day. At Mentone the 
mean maximum of January in the same year was 52° 2 ; 
that of February 55°'9, the usual medium for the month. 

Although the climate is dry at Mentone, whenever in 
the autumn or in the spring the thermometer is at or 
above 70° most of the chest invalids feel oppressed, al- 
though less so than in England. They appear to get on 
best with a dry, sunshiny, cool atmosphere, such as gene- 
rally prevails, with the thermometer at 54° in the shade 
north, and from 60° to 64° in the shade south. 

Moreover, a low night temperature, which has clearly to 



* " Meteorological and Medical Observations on the Climate of 
Egypt." 1861. 



630 THERMOMETRICAL REMARKS. 

be encountered on the Upper Nile (latitude £2°), and in 
the Great Desert of Sahara, as well as on the north 
Mediterranean coast, is better met by an invalid in a 
comfortable, well-built house on land, than in an Arab tent, 
or in a boat on a river, even if that river be the Nile. 

When the Nile journey is contemplated, we must aW 
take into consideration the discomforts of the long journey,, 
the proverbial unhealtbiness of Alexandria and Cairo,, 
where some time has to be spent both going and return- 
ing, and the actual fatigue of constant change and motion. 

At Malaga and Madeira the day maximum is also higher 
than at Mentone, according to Dr. Edwin Lee,* Dr. 
Francis,f and Mr. White,J as seen in Table III. The 
night minimum of Malaga is not given by these authors. 
Mr. White says, that at Madeira the lowest point attained 
in .1841 was, in January, 51°; in February, 53°. The mean 
minimum was 55° for both months — much higher, as we 
have seen, than either the Nile or Mentone media. 

Table III. gives the mean maximum heat of the Nile, 
Madeira, Malaga, and Mentone in January and February. 

In Table II. I have given M. de Breads media for 
Mentone temperature for each month, founded on ten 
years' observations, as compared with my own. His 
observations prove that the summer temperature at Men- 
tone is moderated by the proximity of the sea, and of the 
mountains, as well as that of the winter. The summer 
maximum in ten years was 89°; in Paris, London, and Berlin 
the thermometer in summer often rises above 90°. 

The fact, that in northern climates the summer-day heat 
may be very intense, all but tropical, whilst the winter cold 
may be very severe, quite polar, and that for several weeks 
together, shows the fallacy of trusting to media for an idea 
of climate. Thus the annual media of Marseilles (59° 5') 



* " Spain and its Climates, with a Special Account of Malaga." 
By Dr. Edwin Lee. Pp. 64. 1855. 

f " Change of Climate, with an Account of the most eligible 
Places of residence for invalids in Spain and Portugal" By Dr. 
D. S. T. Francis. 1853. 

X "Madeira: its Climate and Scenery." By Messrs. White and 
Johnson. 1865. 



THERMOMETRICAL REMARKS. 



631 



and that of Mentone (60° S 7 ) are all but the same; yet the 
climates are totally different. At Mentone, we have a more 
southern vegetation than on the north shores of Africa ; at 
Marseilles the vegetation is that of the north of France. 

These thermometrical tables illustrate a very important 
fact, generally ignored. There is no escaping winter north 
of the tropics (lat. 25°) — or even for some degrees south of 
lat. 25°. Dr. Dairy mple found in Upper Egypt, on the 
Nile, that the thermometer descended to 42° on the 31st of 
January in latitude 22° 10'. Cold nights, cold rain, snow 
on but slightly elevated mountain tops, are met with in 
winter, up to within twenty degrees of the equator, that is 
unless immunity from cold is obtained by exceptional and 
special protection from the north, as at Mentone (lat. 
43° 45'), or by insular position, as at Madeira (lat. 31°). 

To entirely escape winter influences, therefore, if it be 
desirable, the invalid or traveller must visit the tropics, 
or pass the equator, and seek summer in the southern 
hemisphere, at the Antipodes, the Cape of Good Hope, 
South America, or Australia. 




ETJFFIE. 



CHAPTEE XXI. 

THE JOUENEY FROM ENGLAND TO THE MEDITERRANEAN — 
THE RETURN. 

Marseilles and Nice, Genoa and the Genoese Riviera 
are the points of the Mediterranean, to which most invalids 
and travellers first direct their steps. My remarks will, 
therefore, be confined to the journey to and from these 
regions. 

Firstly, I would advise no invalid to endeavour to reach 
the Mediterranean and especially the Riviera, before the 
last ten days of October. September and the early part of 
October are still warm, indeed sometimes oppressively hot 
and moist. Moreover, the probability is, that in October 
will occur the two or three weeks of continued rain which 
principally constitute the rainy season. The heat and 
moisture are not only unpleasant but unwholesome, and 
apt both to weaken the constitution and to give rise to 
liver and intestinal congestion and irritation, and to severe 
diarrhoea, sometimes bordering on dysentery. 

I myself never try to reach Mentone before the last week 
in October, out of regard for my own personal welfare ; I 
would rather remain anywhere on the road than do so. The 
very conditions of shelter and protection that make the 
Riviera so desirable a residence when once cold weather 
has commenced in the south of Europe, render it close and 
oppressive in the autumn. 

It is the same in England with Torquay and the Under- 
cliff of the Isle of Wight. The worst time of the year for 
these and similarly situated localities is the month of August 
and the early part of September, and that from the very 
circumstance of their being peculiarly sheltered and pro- 
tected in winter. 

Every year, when I reach Mentone, I find these facts 
exemplified. Within a few hours of my arrival I am called 



THE JOURNEY TO THE MEDITERRANEAN 633 

in to patients and friends suffering from severe diarrhoea, 
and the longer they have heen in the place the more severe 
is the attack and the more difficult it is to subdue. If from 
fortuitous circumstances the south is reached too early, it 
would be better to spend a week or two at Avignon, Toulon, 
or Nice, which are more open, and at this time of the year, 
cooler and pleasanter. 

The month of September is generally fine, pleasant, and 
safe in England, even for confirmed invalids, if they take 
care to avoid the rather chilly evening and morning air. 
By the end of the first week in October, the equinoctial 
gales are over, and it is time to depart, as the English 
climate rapidly deteriorates both at night and day. A 
cloudy sky and dense morning fogs may then become 
the rule. 

The invalid should go down to Folkestone or Dover in 
the morning or afternoon, and sleep there ; the next day, 
if the weather is tolerably fine, he can cross. If the sea 
is very rough, it is absolute folly to do so ; the depth of the 
water in this part of the British Channel is not great, and 
the sea soon rises and soon falls. It may thus be rough 
in the morning and smooth in the afternoon, or vice versa. 
Moreover, the hotel accommodation is very good ; — the 
Lord Warden at Dover, and the Pavilion at Folkestone, 
are both comfortable hotels. 

The last ten days of September and the first week of 
October, the sea, in the straits between the French and 
English coasts, is nearly always rough. Then generally 
comes a lull, a period of calm, as I learnt many years ago. 
When actively engaged in London practice, I always took 
a holiday in September, and generally spent it on the 
Continent — returning for the opening of the London medi- 
cal session, on the 1st of October. I usually had frightful 
passages, until I remembered that I was crossing just at 
the middle of the autumnal equinox. I then remained a 
week longer abroad, and became as fortunate in the sea 
passage as I had previously been the reverse. 

If the passage is effected without much suffering and in 
the morning, even an invalid may continue the journey to 
Paris the same day ; by express train it takes about four 



634 THE JOURNEY TO THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

hours. In Paris there are innumerable good hotels; the 
Louvre, the Grand Hotel, the Bedford, the Lille and Albion, 
may be mentioned as first-class hotels. 

If France has been reached early in October, it may be 
well to remain in the north for a week or ten days before 
proceeding south, to avoid heat and rain. The more open 
parts of Paris constitute a healthy autumnal residence if 
the weather is fine, and there is always a charm about it, 
even for invalids. 

Fontainebleau, which is thirty miles south of Paris, on 
the railroad to Lyons, is better still. The town is small 
and clean, the hotels airy and comfortable, and the forest 
scenery around extensive and very beautiful. The " Cha- 
teau/' also, is full of interesting historical recollections. 
Indeed, I do not know of a more healthy or more pleasing 
resting-place for an invalid, either on his way from the 
north to the south in autumn, or on his return from the 
south in spring. Fontainebleau has certainly, in both 
seasons, a ten days' advantage over Middlesex or Surrey ; 
the autumnal fine weather continues ten days longer, and 
the spring begins ten days sooner. 

Towards the 15th or 20th of October, according to the 
season, the journey should be continued to Lyons. The 
morning express from Paris to Lyons, Marseilles, and 
Nice, leaves Paris at 11 a.m., reaching Montereau at 
] 2.35, where passengers from Fontainebleau are taken up. 
This train reaches Dijon at 5.29, and Lyons Perrache at 
10.15 p.m. ; Marseilles, 6.33 a.m. the next morning, 
Nice at 2.31 p.m.; Monaco, 3.23, and Mentone, 3.45, on 
that day. 

If the journey to Dijon is felt to be sufficient, good 
accommodation can be obtained there for the night, but 
the hours for the express trains the next day are awkward. 
As thirty-one minutes are given for a very comfortable 
table-d'hote dinner, most travellers prefer to go on and to 
sleep at Lyons, where there is a first-rate hotel, the Grand 
Hotel de Lyon. This hotel is one of the large and comfort- 
able hotels that have recently been built in Paris and in 
other large towns of France. It has, however, the great dis- 
advantage of being at least two miles from the railroad, in 



THE JOURNEY TO THE MEDITERRANEAN. 635 

the centre of the town. To those who can put up with 
less luxurious accommodation I would recommend the 
Hotel de riTnivers, which is within a stone's throw of the 
station ; it is clean and kept by very civil people. 

The " day" express from Lyons to Marseilles, the 8 p.m. 
from Paris, leaves at rather too early an hour in the 
morning for invalids, 7.30. I therefore advise them to 
make the night one of complete rest, to breakfast quietly, 
and to take the 10.30 a.m. omnibus train to Valence, which 
is reached at 2.21, or to Avignon, 7.2. The weather is 
generally fine, the scenery of the Rhone valley is interest- 
ing, and to me the slow progress of the train, and frequent 
stoppages is a relief after the whirl of the day before; 
it gives time for reading and for conversation with the 
French gentry who get in and out at the local stations. 

The inn at Valence (Hotel de la Poste) is second-rate, 
but still will do for a night. Valence is a pleasing little 
place, with a tree-planted promenade, looking over the 
broad and rapid Rhone. In one of the streets is shown a 
very unpretending house, in which Napoleon Bonaparte 
lived for above a year, when lieutenant in a regiment 
quartered in the town. I always go to see it ; the idea is 
strange of the great Emperor lounging about this little 
provincial town as lieutenant in a marching regiment. 
What were his thoughts, his views of the future, the limits, 
then, of his ambition? 

The Marseilles express starts from Valence in the morning 
at 9.56 a.m., a much better hour, and, refreshed by two 
good nights' sleep, the traveller is better prepared for 
another long journey. It reaches Marseilles at 3.45. 

The arrival at Avignon by the slow train is rather too 
late (7.2). Montelimur (3.53) might be chosen, but the 
inn is even inferior to that at Valence. It is clean and I 
found the fare and beds good, but it is thoroughly French, 
such as are found in second-rate French towns not frequented 
by foreigners, but by French commercial travellers. 

The day Marseilles express leaves Montelimar at 10.52 a.m., 
Avignon at 1 ; reaches Marseilles at 3.45 p.m. ; and Toulon, 
at 6.18. Toulon is a good point at which to remain a few 
days, either to recruit or to wait. It is so far south, and so 



636 THE JOURNEY TO THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

sheltered, that at the end of October it is still summer. 
There are the dockyards and port to visit, and the convict 
establishment, a terribly interesting sight. Hyeres, also, 
is within a drive, and deserves a visit as the first Mediter- 
ranean winter station met with. 

Most travellers who take the day express through from 
Lyons, Valence, Montelimar, or Avignon, sleep at Mar- 
seilles, where there are several splendid hotels — such as the 
Grand Hotel de Marseilles, the Grand Hotel du Louvre, 
and the Grand Hotel de Noailles. Marseilles is quite a 
different town to what it was twenty years ago; the late 
French Emperor transformed it, as he transformed Paris. 
Formerly it was a dirty, close, unhealthy city, to be avoided 
rather than courted. Now, handsome streets and boule- 
vards have been opened out in every direction, light and 
air have been let in, and a magnificent port, La Jolliette, 
has been constructed. Marseilles has thus become a first- 
class and elegant city, where a few days may be passed 
safely and agreeably. The quick night express which leaves 
Paris at 7.15 p.m. passes Avignon at 9.2 a.m., reaches 
Marseilles at 11.40, where it stops 25 minutes for luncheon, 
reaches Nice at 8.14, and Mentone at 9.82; so that 
travellers who have slept at Avignon can go through to 
Nice or Mentone in a day. At Nice there are many good 
hotels ; among the best may be named the Hotel des 
Anglais, on the public garden. 

I have cautioned invalids against going south too soon, 
and I must now caution them against going too late. It 
is desirable to get to the south side of the Maritime Alps, 
beyond Toulon, before the end of October — if possible by 
the end of the third week. Otherwise there is a risk of 
having to encounter cold weather; even in the south of 
France cold rain, with north winds, may fall by the end of 
that month. Those who delay their journey until the be- 
ginning of November often suffer from this cause through- 
out their entire progress. 

I am persuaded that for ordinary invalids, the quiet, 
cautious mode of travelling above sketched out is the best. 
If good nights are secured, and a quiet breakfast is taken 
at the usual hour, travelling during the day is very easily 



THE JOURNEY TO THE MEDITERRANEAN. 637 

borne, and the invalid arrives at the journey *s end without 
feeling wearied. There is no lost ground caused by broken 
nights and extra fatigue to make up. There are, however, 
cases in which it may be desirable to travel more rapidly. 
With young children, who can lie down, and who sleep 
nearly as well in a train as in their beds, it is better to 
push on — -to go direct from Paris to Nice, or Monaco, by 
the 7.15 p.m. fast train. Again, with invalids who feel 
every change from the train as a dreadful fatigue and trial, 
it may also be as well to pack up comfortably in an invalid 
carriage, and not to loiter on the way. 

On the French lines of railway they have carriages which 
they call coupe lits. They are carriages without divisions, 
so that an invalid can lie at full length throughout the 
journey. There are three seats in these carriages, and the 
charge is for four ; they are to be had by application, the 
day before, at all the principal stations. If the party is 
large, and there is an invalid in the number, the best plan 
is to divide, and for the invalid to travel separately with 
some experienced person. 

When the journey is made by stages, the French plan is 
to leave the luggage at the station, au depot, merely taking 
a carpet-bag to the hotel with necessaries. The French 
railroad company will not allow passengers the convenience 
of through tickets, with power to stop on the way, for what 
motive I cannot imagine. Through tickets can be taken 
from London to Marseilles, but then the traveller is only 
allowed to break the journey at Paris and Lyons. This 
facility has been given, however, to Mr. Cook, the holder 
of the tourist tickets. They can now give coupons in 
London or in Paris which enable passengers to send on 
their luggage from Paris to the end of the journey, and to 
travel without it, stopping all but anywhere. 

The Fare from London to Paris, by Folkestone tidal 
steamer, is : first class, %l. 16s.; second class, %l. 2s. From 
Paris to Marseilles by express, first class only, 106 frs. 
30 c. (U. bs.) ; to Mentone, 30 frs. 65 c. (U 4s. 6d.). The 
steamer from Marseilles to Nice is 32 frs. (1/. 5s. Sd.). 

If the traveller going to the Riviera sleeps at Nice, he 
can either pursue his journey to Monaco or Mentone by 



638 VETTURINO TRAVELLING. 

rail, or be driven over the Turbia mountain in a carriage. 
In the latter ease he should start at twelve, so as to get in 
before four; the drive, as I have stated, is one of the 
loveliest in Europe. The cost of a carriage is thirty-five 
or forty francs, with five francs to the driver. 

Mentone maybe easily reached by Lyons, Macon, the Mont 
Cenis tunnel, Turin, Genoa, and the Riviera ; but I do not 
recommend this route to invalids, as it is attended with 
more changes and fatigue than that by Marseilles. There 
is no really quick train like the 7.15 p.m. from Paris. 

Those, however, who are merely wintering in the south 
for pleasure, or who merely wish to recruit from overwork 
and over-fatigue, may easily make a very enjoyable progress 
on their way to their winter quarters. They can start early 
in September, pass through Switzerland, and over the Alps 
by the pass the least known to them, the Splugen, St. 
Gothard, the Simplon, or Mont Cenis ; and once out of the 
line of the railroads, take a vetturino carriage, avoid the 
rail, and make a pleasure tour. For instance, from 
Milan or Padua to Bologna, from Bologna to Florence and 
Pisa, from Pisa along the eastern Riviera to Genoa, and 
along the western to Mentone, Nice, or Cannes. 

These are very delightful excursions, which I made in 
years gone by, and which I never think of without pleasure. 
The best plan is to engage a comfortable vetturino carriage, 
charioteered by some good-natured man, and drawn by three 
or four good strong horses. A carriage may be chartered for 
a given journey at a certain price, or for an indefinite period 
at so much the day, in any part of Switzerland or Italy. 

This style of travelling — vetturino — used to be very com- 
mon in the south of Europe, and is the most comfortable, 
pleasant, and hygienic of any for tourists not much 
pressed for time, or very particular about expense. Once 
the traveller has secured a roomy and easy carriage, with an 
intelligent, civil driver, both of which are to be had if 
sought lor, — and once the agreement fixing the payment, 
at so much the distance or so much a day, has been duly 
signed and delivered, he may bid adieu to care. He be- 
comes master of his movements, he can eat when he likes, 
walk when he likes, and sleep when he likes. Thus the 



VETTURIXO TRAVELLING. 639 

greatest drawbacks to continued travelling are removed 
from his path. 

It should be remembered, that in velturino travelling, the 
driver for the time being is your servant, and must do your 
bidding, and everything should be arranged in conformity 
with previous habits and the laws of hygiene, provided the 
written agreement be not infringed. Thus the journey 
becomes a pleasure, and a source of health instead of a trial 
of strength, as often occurs. 

The plan which I generally adopted was to rise at six or 
seven, to take a cup of tea or coffee, and to start at seven 
or eight, the carriage being closed at the top as a protec- 
tion against the sun, open at the sides, and prepared for 
the day's campaign by a comfortable arrangement of 
umbrellas, books, maps, and provisions. The latter usually 
consisted of a basket of bread, meat, biscuits, wine, and 
fruit, provided before starting, with Liebig's extract of meat, 
a little of which makes bad soup good, and a bottle of Dunn's 
extract of coffee which transforms any kind of milk, cow's, 
sheep's, goat's, or camel's, into good coffee. At nine or ten 
we stopped for breakfast, which can be obtained anywhere, 
if the traveller is contented with milk, bread, butter, eggs, 
and honey. There is an Extrait de Cafe Hoka to be found 
in all French towns. Then the journey is resumed, and at 
twelve or one the principal stoppage of the day takes place 
for the dinner of the driver and of his horses. 

If the traveller wishes to make a solid lunch he can do 
so, if he is satisfied with his own frugal supplies, the mid- 
day rest becomes a period of liberty, during which he can 
survey all around, analyse the habits and customs of the 
peasantry, study the architecture of their houses, farms, 
out-buildings, their agricultural operations, and the local 
botany. Finally, if agreeable, and weather permits, he 
can take a good hygienic walk in advance of three, four, 
or more miles. "When tired he has only to sit down by 
the, roadside in some picturesque nook until the carriage 
overtakes him. If the driver, as is usually the case, rests 
for a couple of hours, and four or five miles have been got 
over, it is nearly three before the carriage is again resumed. 
To me these midday strolls in advance were the pleasantest 



640 FLEAS AND MOSQUITOES. 

part of the clay's journey. After that, progress is steadily 
made until six, when the final stoppage takes place. Then 
comes dinner, a walk, or a chat with your companions or 
some new acquaintance, a cup of tea, and an early retire- 
ment for the night. 

The day's programme can be varied according to the 
wishes of the traveller, to health requirements, and time. 
For instance, the first start may only be made after an 
early breakfast, and the final stoppage may be made 
earlier or later. As already stated the traveller must re- 
member that the driver is in his pay, and bound to submit 
to any reasonable demand consistent with his agreement, 
although most vetturini will, if allowed, try to make their 
will and convenience the rule. 

When the south of Europe is reached in the autumn, 
two great plagues have to be encountered — fleas and mos- 
quitoes. For the former there is an admirable remedy in 
France and Italy with which I should advise travellers to 
provide themselves from a chemist — viz., " La Poudre 
Insecticide, 33 our Persian Powder. A dessert-spoonful, more 
or less, according to the number of one's foes, sprinkled 
over the sheets, if the powder is fresh and good, has an 
admirable effect. In the morning they are found lying on 
their backs, either dead or faintly struggling, and utterly- 
powerless ; a very pleasing sight. 

This powder is composed of the flowers of a Pyre- 
thrum, extensively cultivated in Persia, Armenia, and the 
Caucasus. Several species of the Pyrethrum are used, 
but that of the Caucasus is the best ; it was introduced 
into France about the year 1850 by M. Willemot. Since 
then he has procured the seed from the Caucasus, and has 
raised the plant, which proves quite hardy, and able to 
stand our winters. The species thus raised appearing to 
differ from that previously known, it has been named 
Pyrethrum "Willemoti. The flowers, which resemble those 
of the ox-eye daisy, are cut off, powdered in a mortar, and 
preserved in well-corked bottles. It is said to be efficacious 
against all kinds of insects offensive to man, but to him it 
is perfectly innocuous. 

Mosquitoes are more difficult to deal with, and much 



MOSQUITO CURTAINS. 641 

more venomous antagonists. The higher we are the less 
numerous we find them, so we are recompensed, in one 
sense, for climbing up to a. third or fourth storey. It is 
well to remember, also, that light attracts them, and not 
to open the window at dark whilst there is a light in the 
room; not until the latter has been extinguished. 

Where there are net mosquito- curtains, as in India, it is 
easy to keep mosquitoes at bay, but they are seldom met 
with ; the curtains are mostly open, or so heavy that if 
closed the inmate is half-suffocated. Although mosquitoes 
are numerous on the Riviera, the bed-curtains are as defec- 
tive there as elsewhere. It is quite worth while therefore 
for those who suffer from them, and especially for invalids, 
to have at once, on arriving, bed-curtains made of net, 
closed all round. They admit of the free passage of air, 
and as they are lifted up bodily at the side, they can be 
thoroughly closed again, and these vile pests can be kept at 
bay ; then their war-song on the outside is heard with 
pleasure instead of dread. The mosquito belongs to the same 
family as our gnat {Cidices). The sting is most venomous 
to newcomers from the north. Once a thorough inoculation 
has taken place the bites ceasing to be so venomous, travel- 
lers suffer much less, or not at all, the second year. 

Mosquitoes continue venomous in the south as long as 
the nights are warm ; the advent of cold nights in No- 
vember seems gradually to take away their power of in- 
flicting injury. I have observed the same thing in England; 
for insects exactly like the southern mosquitoes abound in 
wooded districts in the south of England. In cool summers, 
however numerous, they seldom or never bite, but in hot 
summers their venom is elaborated, and they become nearly 
as formidable as those of the Mediterranean shores. The 
warmer the autumn is in the south the longer they remain 
in the ascendant; nothing but really cold nights chills 
their ardour. Those who keep their bedroom warm may 
have them as companions all winter, for they both feed 
at their host's expense, and are protected from cold. 

Whether the invalid is leaving the north of Europe for 
the south in autumn, or the south of Europe for the north 
in spring, I firmly believe that it is essential for his welfare, 

T T 



642 THE RETURN FROM THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

that the journey should not be too hurried, too precipitate. 
The difference of climate, between the north and south of 
Europe, is so great, that there is absolute danger in too 
sudden a transition. 

I see this fact exemplified every year, both in autumn 
and spring. Railways have all but annihilated space, and 
the facilities they afford to rapid travelling are so great 
that a traveller may leave the London Bridge station at 
7.40 on Monday morning, by mail train for Paris, and be 
at Nice or Mentone for supper the following day, Tues- 
day. Unfortunately, invalids are not unfrequently tempted 
to adopt this "cannon-ball style of travelling," as I call 
it, and often pay a severe penalty for so doing. The tran- 
sition from the cool, moist climate of England or Paris 
in autumn, to the dry, sunny, stimulating atmosphere 
of the north shores of the Mediterranean, is too sudden, 
and developes various forms of liver, intestinal, skin, and 
head disease. The same results follow in spring, on the 
return journey. Every spring the Paris physicians tell me 
that they have to attend many patients, who, after spending 
the winter in the south, break down with bronchitis, 
pleurisy, rheumatism, after a rapid return journey to Paris 
early in the spring, and from the same cause, a too sudden 
change of climate. 

A leisurely progress, both in descending south and 
ascending north, is the most prudent course to follow, both 
for invalids and for the sound. On the one hand they 
avoid needless fatigue, on the other they avoid a too sudden 
transition from one decided climate to another. The journey 
should be considered and made a short pleasure tour. 

THE RETURN FROM THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

When the return homewards has been decided upon, 
there is an all but universal wish on the part of the invalids 
to join sound friends, and to make a tour on the way. 
Many years' experience, however, has convinced me that it 
is impossible effectually to pursue health and pleasure at 
the same time. I am persuaded that no greater mistake 
can be made than to endeavour to combine sightseeing 
either with wintering abroad for health, or with the journey 



THE RETURN FROM THE MEDITERRANEAN. 643 

to and from the south. In other words, real invalids 
should never accompany strong, healthy, sightseeing friends 
or relatives in their pleasure tours ; they themselves should 
be the main consideration. They should, as already stated, 
neither start too early nor too late, about the second week 
in October, go direct to their destination by easy stages, 
reaching about the last week of October, and return home 
quietly when the fine weather is thoroughly established, 
towards the middle or end of May. And yet nearly all fall 
into the contrary error, especially on the return journey. 
As soon as March comes, the wildest travelling plans are 
formed — often by the greatest sufferers. The object is the 
restless Anglo-Saxon desire to see the world on the way 
home ; the result is to bring the invalid into every kind of 
danger, and not unfrequently to undo all the good gained 
in the winter. 

A very pleasant lounging homeward journey may be 
made through the south of France, with little or no risk 
after the middle of May, when the mistral has abated, but 
such a journey by no means satisfies the majority of our 
invalid well-read countrymen and countrywomen. Natu- 
rally enough it is Italy they sigh for, Italy they want to 
see : Genoa, Florence, Rome, Milan, Venice, the glorious 
Italian lakes, and the grand Swiss mountains, with their 
glaciers, their torrents, and their pine forests; hence the 
danger. The unwholesome towns I have described, the 
snow-covered passes of the Alps, are pregnant with danger, 
and should be avoided by the diseased, until they have re- 
gained health, and can once more defy the elements. 

A delightful and perfectly safe journey may, however, 
be made in April, by those who are sufficiently strong and 
well to endure the fatigue of travelling, along both Rivieras 
to Genoa and Pisa; from Leghorn direct by sea to Mar- 
seilles; or through Corsica, by Bastia and Ajaccio, to Mar- 
seilles, or by Genoa, Milan, and the Mont Cenis Tunnel. 

Corsica alone may be easily visited by way of Nice or 
Genoa, and Sicily is also accessible from Marseilles or from 
Genoa. For the details of the journeys to Corsica and 
Sicily I must refer to the special chapters on those countries 

T T 2 



644 THE RETURN FROM THE MEDITERRANEAN. 

which I have visited in this invalid manner, with very 
great profit and delight. 

The easiest and safest return pleasure journey in spring, 
however, is the one along the E-iviera. Even a confirmed 
invalid may prudently, towards the middle of April or the 
beginning of May, travel slowly by carriage to Genoa ; re- 
turning the same way, or taking the Mount Cenis Tunnel. 
I have travelled many times by this route in spring, and 
have always greatly enjoyed its exquisite scenery, and that 
without the least fatigue. 

On a calm day in spring the sea journey from Nice to 
Genoa only takes a few hours, and is very enjoyable, the 
steamer skirting the base of magnificent mountains all the 
way. As there are now boats every other day each way, it 
is always feasible to wait for fine weather. 

In concluding, I would repeat the advice already given 
in various parts of this work. Heal invalids, seriously ill, 
should make no experiments, and should avoid all health 
residences where they cannot enjoy every possible comfort 
which the state of their health may render necessary ; 
they are not the people who ought to break new ground. 
This advice may be extended to those who, although enjoy- 
ing health, leave England for the first time, and are not 
accustomed to foreign ways and manners, and who are 
consequently very wedded to English habits. 

Both these classes of winter emigrants are best in those 
parts of the Continent which the English have long fre- 
quented, and which have thus been moulded to English 
tastes and requirements. There may be some little advan- 
tage, in an economical point of view, in going to hitherto 
untrodden regions, but it must be remembered that 
economy on the Continent is invariably connected with 
the absence of the comforts and decencies of life to which 
we, as a nation, are accustomed. The more comfortable, 
the cleaner, the more English, in a word, a place becomes, 
the more expensive it also becomes. Moreover, the further 
we go from home the greater the fatigue and expense of 
the journey, and the more difficult it is to get back, once 
arrived at the destination. 

I have reserved for the end of this book an extract from 



SIR JAMES CLARK ON HEALTH TRAVELLING. 645 

the treatise of my late esteemed and regretted friend, Sir 
James Clark, on "The Sanative Influence of Climate/' 
Although it first appeared many years ago it still retains 
its position as a valuable work on climate, and any advice 
it contains deserves to be weighed and pondered by all 
whom it may concern : — 

* Too much is generally expected from the simple change 
of climate. It often happens that from the moment the 
invalid has decided upon making such a change, his hopes 
are fixed solely upon it; while other circumstances, not 
less essential to his recovery, are considered of secondary 
importance, and sometimes totally neglected. This is an 
error not always confined to the patient; his medical 
adviser frequently participates in it : nor is this difficult to 
be accounted for. The cases hitherto sent abroad have 
been, for the most part, consumptive, or other diseases of 
long standing, in which the ordinary resources of our art 
have failed ; therefore, when change of climate has at last 
been determined upon, the physician, as well as the patient, 
is disposed to look upon it as the sole remedy, 

"But as I have witnessed on a pretty extensive scale 
the injury arising from this over-confidence in the unaided 
effects of climate, and the consequent neglect of other 
matters of no less consequence, I particularly request the 
attention of invalids to the following remarks. 

" In the first place, I would strongly advise every person 
who goes abroad for the recovery of his health, whatever 
may be his disease or to what climate soever he may go, 
to consider the change as placing him merely in a more 
favourable situation for the removal of his disease ; in fact, 
to bear constantly in mind, that the beneficial influence of 
travelling, of sailing, and of climate, requires to be aided 
by such a dietetic regimen and general mode of living, and 
by such remedial measures, as would have been requisite 
in his case had he remained in his own country. All the 
circumstances requiring attention from the invalid at home 
should be equally attended to abroad. If in some things 
greater latitude may be permitted, others will demand even 
a more rigid attention. It is, in truth, oniy by a due re- 
gard to all these circumstances, that the powers of the 



646 SIR JAMES CLARK ON HEALTH TRAVELLING. 

constitution can be enabled to throw off, or even materially 
mitigate, in the best climate, a disease of long standing. 

"It may appear strange that I should think it requisite 
to insist so strongly on the necessity of attention to these 
directions ; but I have witnessed the injurious effects of a 
neglect of them too often, not to deem such remarks called 
for in this place. It was, indeed, matter of surprise to me, 
during my residence abroad, to observe the manner in 
which many invalids seemed to lose sight of the object for 
which they left their own country, — the recovery of their 
health. This appeared to arise chiefly from too much 
being expected from climate. 

" The more common and more injurious deviations from 
that system of living which an invalid ought to adopt, 
consist in errors of diet; exposure to cold, over-fatigue, 
and excitement in what is called ' sight-seeing •' frequent- 
ing crowded and over-heated rooms ; keeping late hours, 
&c. Many cases fell under my observation, in which 
climate promised the greatest advantage, but where its 
beneficial influence was counteracted by the injurious 
operation of these causes." 




HOMEWARD BOUND, 



INDEX. 



A DOUR, river, south of France, 
607 

Adriatic sea, the, 236 

Adventure, a diligence, 383 

Aged, the, thrive on the Riviera, 
161 

Agriculture in Spain, 265 
„ in Sicily, 437 

,, in Algeria, 554, 557 

Aidin, town near Ephesus, 579 

Ajaccio, town of, 358 

,, as a winter station, 359 

Albanian mountains, 294 

Alcanzar junction, Spain, 264 

Algiers, city of, 493 

Algeria, geography, geology, 523 
,, climate of, 560 

Alicante, town of, 260 

Aloe, 33-103 

Alps, crossing the, 600 

Amazon valley, winds from, 73-74 

Amiens, flint weapons at, 53 

Ancona, city of, 236 

Apennines, partial protection of, 4 

Aquarium, Mentone, 132 

Aqua Rese mine in Sardinia, 477 

Arabia in the rainless tract, 72 

Arab camp and tent, Algeria, 558 

Arabs, nomadic, 502, 526-558 

Araucaria excelsa, 110, 114, 486 

Arbutus, the, 36 

Arcachon, situation, 614 

„ pine forests and climate of, 
615 

Archipelago, Grecian, 311 

Architecture, Siculo-Norman, 424 

Ardoino's " Flore des Alpes Mari- 
times," 37 

Arethusa, fountain of, 452 

Armand, Dr., work on Algeria, 394 

Arno, the river, 214 

Artists, invalided, 200 



Asia Minor, 574 
Asplenium adiantum n. fern, 36 
,, Ceterachie, 36 
,, Trichomanes, 36 
Asthma at Mentone and on the 

Riviera, 159 
Athens, situation, ruins, 304 

„ vegetation and climate, 305 
„ wind tower, 83 
Atlas ascent of, 547 

,, ranges, 523 
Australia, a winter refuge, 89 
Auvergne, extinct volcanoes, 46 
Awe Loch, fishing in, 595 



BALAGNA, fertile, in Corsica, 342 
Balkan mountains, the, 329 
Baltic, upheaval, Professor Rogers, 

48 
Banana, Mentone, Algiers, 110 
Baron, a German, 414 
Bathing, sea, Biarritz, 608 

,, ,, Arcachon, 615 

Barometer, foretells storms, 218 
Bastia, town of, 337, 365 
Baveno, Lake Maggiore, 599 
Bedroom, ventilation of, 168 
Bellaggio, Lake Como, 597 
Bellini Gardens at Catania, 448 
Benedictines, Sicily, 424 
Benitza, Corfu village, 297 
Berbers, or Kabyles, 503-530, 536 
Berceau's Nature's Hygrometer, 76 
Berkeley Square, the planes in, 31 
Biarritz, situation, climate of, 604 
,, sea bathing at, 609 
,, vegetation, climate, 611 
Birds on the Riviera, 144 

,, on Mount Atlas, 548 
Biscay, Bay of, 607 
Black Sea, the, 327 



648 



INDEX. 



Blackberry, 34, 479 

Blidah, in Algeria, 539 

Boating at Mentone, 1 67 

„ in Italian lakes, 587, 597 
„ in Scotch lakes, 591 

Boirie, or Cabrole valley, 182 

Bologna, city of, 235 

Bombyx processionis moth, 28 

Bonifacio, town and straits of, 391, 459 

Book-club, Mentone, 200 

Bordighera, station and palms, 230 

Bosc-o, Casa del, Mount Etna, 443 

Bosphorus, the Thracian, 327 

Botanists, resources for, 81 

Bougainvillea, 106, 486 

Boulder drift at Mentone, 41 

BreVs, M., meteorological tables, 618 

Breezes, land and sea, 85 

Bride, a Sicilian, 409 

Brigands, in Attica, 309 
,, in Corsica, 351 

Brigand, a Corsican story, 354 

Brindisi, town of, 240 

Bronchitis, on Riviera, 158 

Broom, the prickly, 35 

Bucintro, Albanian village, 294 

Bulgaria, 329 

Bull-fight at Murcia, 250 

Bureau, Arabe, the, 535 

Burgos, city of, 289 

Burial, early, not the law, 197 



CABROLE, or Boirie, valley of, 182 
CactaceEe on the Riviera, 105 
CagHari, city of Sardinia, 481 
Cafe Maure at Algiers, 505 
Caique, Constantinople boat, 322 
Calabrian mountains, 430 
Calvi, town of Corsica, 378 
Camellias on Riviera, 100 

,, on Lake Como, 598 

Cannes, station of, 232 
Candia, abandoned by Europe, 315 
Cape of Good Hope in winter, 89 
Capillus veneris fern, 36 
Capraja, island of, 335, 458 
Caprera, Garibaldi at, 457 
Capri, island of, 224 
Captain, a shipwrecked, 455 
Carabacel, Nice, sheltered, 88 
Caravan, Arabs and camels, 538 
Caravansail, a, in Algeria, 543 
Carei, valley at Mentone, 181 



Cargese, Greek colony, Corsica, 382 
Carnival at Mentone, 202 
Carouba tree at Mentone, 25 
„ elsewhere, 266, 306 
Carthage, ruins of, 571 
Carthagena, city of, 245 
Carrere, Dr., climate of Italy, 214 
Carriages at Mentone, 184 
Casabianda, penitentiary, 39S 
Casino at Mentone, 193 

,, at Monaco, 178 
Castagniccia, the, Corsica, 370 
Castellare, village of, 187 
Castile, New, table-land of, 271 
Catania, city in Sicily, 436 
Caverns in limestone rocks, 49 

„ stalactite, Corsica, 366 
Caves, Bone, Mentone, 49 
Cedar forest, Mount Atlas, 546 
Celtis occidentalis tree, 325 
Celts, flint weapons of, 51 
Cemetery, Mentone, 197 
Cenis, Mount, passing, 209 

,, „ tunnel, 602 

Cephalonia, island of, 302 
Cervantes, Michael, house of, 290 
Ceterach fern, 36 
Ceylon, a, planter, 413 
Chamserops palm, 110, 247, 512, 530 
Change, the love of, 206 
Characteristics of Riviera, 81 
Chartreuse, the Grande, 91 
Charybdis and Scylla, 428 
Cheilanthus odorus fern, 37 
Cheliff, valley, river, 542, 554 
Chestnut trees in Corsica, 341 
Chiavari, town of, 211 
Chififa, gorge of, Algeria, 540 
Children, on Riviera, 161 
Chios, the, island of, 317 
Cholera at Malaga, 280 

„ unknown at Mentone, 172 
Chrysanthemum on Riviera, 105 
Churches, English, Mentone, 197 
Cimiez, the, Nice, 88 
Cineraria maritima, 25, 104 
Cistus, the, 35 

Civita Vecchia, city, Malta, 486 
Clark, Sir J., advice to invalids, 642 

,, ,, meteorological table, 

621 
Clearness, atmospheric, Mentone, 76 
Clothing, warm, in south, 80 
Coffee planter, a, Ceylon, 412 



INDEX. 



649 



Colonists in Algeria, 521, 557 
Columbus, Christr., house of, 290 
Comforts, English, expensive, 198, 

448 
Como, lake, climate of, 597, 
Conglomerates at Men tone, 41 
Conifers, Mentone, 27 
,, Corsica, 313 
Conjuror, feats of a negro, 508 
Conservatory plants in England, 89 
Constantinople, city of, 321 
Convicts, colony of, Casabianda, 393 
Convict soldiers in Algeria, 544 
Cork tree, the, 29 
Copper mines, Corsica, 377 
Cordilleras, the, influence of, 73 
Cordova, town of, and cathedral, 275 
Corfu, town and island, 295 
Cornice, Riviera road, 9 
Coronella, the, 35 
Corsica, geography, geology of, 331 
,, communication with con- 
tinent, 357 
Corso, cape, road, Corsica, 366 
Corte, town of, Corsica, 377 
Costumes in Algiers, 498 

,, in Spain, 
Courmayeur, grand summer, 91 
Cretaceous rocks, Mentone, 41 
Crustacea at Mentone, 140 
Cuttle fish, sepia, 135 
Cyclades, the, archipelago, 311 
Cyclamen, the, in Corsica, 387 
Cypress, pyramidal, Constantinople, 

325 
Cytisus, the, 35 



DANCING, Kabyle girl, 5C7 
Danube, return by steamer, 
327 
Dasylirise, Algiers, 113,-513 
Depression in bad weather, 79 
Dervishes, rites of, Algeria, 509 
Desert, Algerine, 521 

,, Sahara, 517 
Devil fish, the, 136 
Dey's palace, Algiers, 538 
Diana, temple of, Ephesus, 578 
Diligences, Spanish, 285 

„ adventure, Corsica, 383 
Dogs, good physiognomists, 412 
Donkeys, donkey women, 1S5 
Drainage of Mediterranean towns, 191 



Dray son, Col., on glacial period, 48 
Drives at Mentone, 174 
Dryness, summer,in Mediterranean, 72 
Dundas on malaria, 375 
Dysentery absent at Mentone, 172 
„ frequent at Naples, 222 
Dyspepsia on Eiviera, 160 



EARTHQUAKES at Catania, 437 
Earthquakes at Messina, 428 
Ease and dignity incompatible, 151 
Education at Mentone, 200 

,, in Italy, 243 
Egypt, temperature, Upper, 629 
Elba, Island of, Napoleon at, 335 
Elche, town and palm forest, 256 
Eldorado, not in Mediterranean, 88 
Elijah the prophet, 69 
Engadin, the valley of, 93 
Engineers, English, 410 
England, climate of, moist, 64 

,, best European summer cli- 
mate, 91 
,, low night-temperature, 627 
Eocene format! n, Mentone; 41 

,, period at Mentone, 42 
Ephesus, ruins of, 377 
Equinoxes, rainy season, Riviera, 70 
Erica arborea on Mediterranean, 36 

„ calluna. ling heather, 36 
Esa, village of, 187 
Esterel mountains, the, 175 
Etna, Mount, ascension of, 443 
,, ,, base of, 433 
,, ,, Casa del Bosco, 443 
,, ,, Val del Bove, 444 
Eucalyptus globulus, 114 
Euphorbia, shrubby at Mentone, 25 
Excursions at Mentone, 174 
Exercise in invalidism, 166 



FAIRS, Arab, in Kabylia, 537 
Farm, a Trappist, Algeria, 517 
Faro lighthouse, Messina, 428 
Ferns at Mentone, 36 
,, in Algeria, 511 
,, in Sardinia, 479 
Fertility of southern Europe, 454 
Fever, in Asia Minor, 579 
,, in Corsica, 376, 394 
,, in Sardinia, 470 

malarious, at Mentone, 171 



650 



INDEX. 



Fever, typhoid, 210, 227 
Finale, town of, 228 
Fire, a, at Smyrna, 575 
Fires and firewood, Mentone, 24 
Fish in Mediterranean, 131 
Fishing in Italian lakes, 589 
,, at Mentone, 132 
,, in Scotland, 591 
Flea-powder, the Persian, 638 
Flints in Mentone Bone caves, 50 
Flocks, sheep and goats, Corsica, 399 
Florence, the city of, 215 
Flowers, a consolation in ill health, 95 
,, garden, at Mentone, 99 
,, wild, at Mentone, 203 
Fogs, absent at Mentone, 75 
Forest in Sardinia, 478 

,, primeval, 400 

,, roads, Corsica, 381 
Forests destroyed, Sardinia, 478 
Fort Napoleon, Kabylia, 535 
Frogs, the green tree, 144 
Frost, hoar, in Desert of Sahara, 561 
Fruit trees, on Riviera, 62 



GAETA, the town of, 217 
Gambling, Monaco, 178 
Game in Corsica, 392, 400 

,, in Sardinia, 481 
Garda, the lake, 601 
Gardenia, the, 109 
Garden, experimental, at Algiers, 512 

,, my English, 117 

,, my Italian, 96 
Gardening at Mentone, 95 
Garibaldi, anecdote of, 223 
Generoso, Monte, for summer, 91 
Geneva, town and lake of, 603 
Genoa, city of, 209 

, , the gulf of, 5 
Geography, physical, Mentone and 

.Riviera, 63 
Geology, agricultural, 58 

,, of Algeria, 527 

„ of Corsica, 338 

„ of Malta, 485 

,, of Mentone, 38 

,, of Sardinia, 461 

„ of Sicily, 430 

,, of Spain, 254 
Geothermal heat at Mentone, 13 
German fellow-travellers, 416 
Giaidini, village of, Sicily, 432 



Glacial period, Mentone, 43 
Glaisher, ascensions of, 65 
Golden Horn, Constantinople, 321 
Golf Juan, 115 

Gorbio, a mountain village, 189 
Gout on Riviera, 165 
Grammitis fern, 37 
Granada, city of, Alhambra, 284 
Grecian temples, ruins of, 304 
Greek colony in Corsica, 382 
Greenwich, rainfall at, 70 
Gregorovius on Corsica, 350 
Grimaldi, the tower of, 1 48 
Guadalquivir, valley of the, 273 
Guagno, baths of, Corsica, 381 
Gulf stream, the, 64, 129, 131, 143 
Gulls, sea, in Mediterranean, 145 
Gtinther, Dr., on Whitebait, 133 



HAREM, a Turkish, 320 
Hermit's cave, the, 189 
Heroes, Corsican, 343 
Home, the return, 640 
Horses at Mentone, 184 

,, pure Arab, Algeria, 556 
Horticulture at Mentone, 95 
Howden's, Lord, garden, Murcia, 252 
Hyacinth, the grape, 35 

,, wild and cultivated, 108 
Hyeres, station of, 233 
Hygiene, its laws ignored, 226 
Hygrometers, the mountains, 76 

ICE at Algiers and in Algeria, 564 
Ice at Mentone, 16, 62 
Ice in Desert of Sahara, 561 
,, in Palestine, 580 
Icebergs in the Atlantic, 44 
Iglesias, town of, Sardinia, 474 
Igneous rocks, Mentone, 45 
Improvisatore, the, Andersen's, 223 
Independence, Corsican, 388 
Inn, a Spanish, 260 
Insects at Mentone, 15, 77 
Inquisition, the, in Spain, 277 
Invalids, Sir J. Clark's advice to, 642 
Iris, the, at Mentone, 103 
Iron gates, the, on Danube, 329 
Irrigation in Spain, 248, 256, 266, 283 
Irrigation in the south, 454 
Iselle, Simp] on pass, 600 
Iseo, lake of, 385 



INDEX. 



651 



Isola Rossa, Corsica, 377 
Italy, eastern, 233 
,, -western, 207 
Italia Unita, 237, 243, 450 
Ivy, 36 

,, Algerian, 541 

,, Sardinian, 479 



JARS, porous, human beings like, 80 
Jealousy, cause of vendetta, 348 
Jews, the, in Algeria, 501 
Journey to Mediterranean, 632 

„ the return to north, 642 
Jujube Thorn, the, Algeria, 551 
Junipers, wild, cultivated, 110 
Jurjura mountains, the, 523 

KABYLES and Kabylia, 503, 530, 
536 
Kidneys, diseases of, on Riviera, 161 



LAKES, Italian, 581 
„ Geology of, 585 
Lamartine's " Graziella, '' 223 
Landes, in south of France, 605 
Lavatera, the, 104 
Lemon tree at Mentone, 17 
Leisure hours, Mentone, 77, 183 
Lepanto, Gulf of, 303 
Lerici, village of, 212 
Liquorice, manufactory, Aidin, 579 
Linum trigynum on Riviera, 105 
Lizard, the invalided, 167 
Lloyd's, the surveyor from, 455 
Loch, Scotch, fibbing in, 591 
Locusts, 530 ; a battle with, 552 
Loi du recel, Corsica, 352 
Lovere, town of, 588 
Lugano, lake of, 599 



MADDELINA, LA, island, 459 
Madden, D., on Malaga, 280 
Madeira, climate of, 88, 159, 628 

,, rainfall at, 70 
Madrid, city, vegetation, 288 
Malta, island of, geology, 484 
Magenta, battle field of, 583 
Maggiore, the lake, 599 
Malaga, city, 278 ; climate, 279 
Malaria, at Mentone, 171 



Malaria, in Corsica, 376, 394 
,, in Sardinia, 470 
,, in Asia Minor, 579 
„ Dr. Oldham on, 394; Dr. 
Armand on, 394 
Malta, vegetation of, 484 

,, climate of, 484; vegetation, 485 
,, climate of, 490 
Mammoths, frozen, on Lena, 51 
Man, prehistoric or fossil, 55 
Maufredi, Dr. Bastia, Orezza, 338, 370 
Maquis, or brushwood, Corsica, 398 
Marabouts, or holy men, 537 
Maree, Loch, fishing in, 595 
Margaria's, Comte, garden, 112 
Maritime Alps, the, 5 
Marseilles, gardens at, 116 
Martin, Cap, 46 
Massa Carrara, town of, 213 
Maury, on the sea, 129, 131 
Meteorological tables, 617 

,, ,, of Mentone, 

Media, 617 
„ „ of Mentone, 

Nile, Malaga, 
619, 620 
„ ,, of winter cli- 

,, „ mates, Sir J. 

Clark, 621 
Meteorological remarks, 624 
Medical features of the Riviera, 152 
Mediterranean basin, the, 1-1 22 
Mediterranean, blueness of, 143 
„ currents, 131 

,, depth, sounding, 127 

,, fish, 131 

„ saltness, 143 

,, storms on, 129 

,, tides, 125 

Mentone, situation, 8 

,, climate and vegetation, 13 
„ socially considered, 173 
Mentonians, native, their diseases, 170 
Mesembryanthemum, Mentone, 32 
Messina, town of, Sicily, 426 
Mignonette, Mentone, 32 
Mian, city, free at last, 583 
Miocene period at Mentone, 42 
Milianah, town of Algeria, 542 
Milis, orange groves, Sardinia, 471 
Milk, sheep and goat's, 400 

,, necessary for children, 464 
Minerals, in Corsica, 356 
„ in Sardinia, 474 



652 



INDEX. 



Minnesota, in America, 94 
Miocenic period, climate of, 42 
Mistral, the wind, in Mediterranean, 

65 ; 

Mississippi, the river, 67 
Mistral, the, 12, 65, 117 
Mitidjah plain, Algeria, 539 
Moisture, in air at Mentone, 64 

,, in England, 64 
Molluscs at Mentone, 140 
Moggridge, sen., on Bone caves, 50 

,, on valley of Caiross, 190 
Moggridge, T., jun., Flora of Mentone, 
37 
,, harvesting ants, trap-door 
spiders, 37 
Monaco, drive to, 176 

,, gaming tables, 178 

,, gardens, 179 

„ hand, 179 
Monreale, town and cathedral, 424 
Monsoon, little, at Mentone, 84 
Monkey torrent, Algeria, 540 
Monte Cristo, island of, 336 
Moonshine, on Riviera, 191, 459 
Montreux, L., of Geneva, climate, 603 
Morgins, baths of, 92 
Mosques at Algiers, 511 
Mosquitoes on Riviera, 78, 640 
Moth, humming bird, 147 
Mountains, in summer, 93 
Murcia, city and p^ain of, 249 
Music at Monaco, 179 
Mustapha superior, Algiers, 497 
Musa Ensete, 110, 114 
Myrtle, the, 36 
Mythology of Sicily, 425 

A7 ARBONNARD'S garden, G. Juan, 
ll 115 
Naples, city, 221 

Napoleon's birthplace at Ajaccio, 363 
Narcissus, wild and cultivated, 108 
Nasturtium, a perennial, 110 
Naturalists, happy people, 142 
Negroes in Algeria, 500 
Nervi, town of, 211 
Neuralgia on Riviera, 160 
Nice, a southern capital, 193 
Nicolosi, on iMount Etna, 441 
Nicias, the Athenian general, 451 
Niepce, Dr., on conglomerate, 45 
Nights coolon Riviera, 64, 79 - 



Nights, winter, cool on Riviera, 64, 
69, 620 
„ „ on the Nile, 620, 629 

,, ,, in Desert of Sahara, 

561 
,, ,, in Algerine desert, 

564 
Nummulitic rocks, Mentone, 41 



OASES of the Sahara, 549, 550 
O'idium, vine disease, 61 
Oleander, 34, 272, 545 
Olive tree, the, on Riviera, 18 
Opuntia or prickly pear, 32, 466 
Oran, seaport town of, 565 
Orange tree, Mentone, 17 

„ ,, Eastern Italy, Archi- 
pelago, Sicily, Sar- 
dinia, 471 

„ „ Malta, 489 

,, ,, Blidah, Algeria, 538 

„ ,, Tunis, 568 
Orchids at Mentone, 35 
Orezza, iron waters, 370 
Orihuela, palm groves of, 257 
Orinoco, the rivei*, 73 
Oristano, town of Sardinia, 470 
Orleansville, town, Algeria, 556 
Ormonds, les, summer station, 92 
Orphanides, Prof., Athens, 305 
Orta, lake of, 599 
Osilio, village of Sardinia, 465 



PAGE, Mr., on life of globe, 48 
Pagenstecher, Prof., on fishing, 

139 
Paillon, the river, Nice, 10 
Pala Guttura, mine in Sardinia, 478 
Palermo, city, vegetation, 414 
Palestine, winter in, 580 
Palms at Mentone, 110 

,, at Bordighera, 80 

„ in Spain, 257, 258 

„ at Algiers, 512 

,, in Algeria, 550 

,, for in-doors, 111 
Paoli, the Corsican patriot, 345 
Parasols necessary, 76 
Parthenon, the, Athens, 304 
Pasturage, free, 

,., Corsica, 399 
Patois, Mentone, 192 



INDEX. 



653 



Patras, town of, 303 

Pau, climate of, moist, 159 

,, rainfall at, 70 
Paxos, Grecian archipelago, 301 
Peach trees on Riviera, 62 
Penitents, black and white, 202 
Pensions, or boarding-houses, 192 
Pepper tree, false, at Mentone, 32 

„ „ elsewhere, 306, 485 
Pera, Christians, Constantinople, 

322 
Philosophical engineers, 334, 410 
Phthisis, nature of, 154 

,, benefit of the south in 
winter, 157 
Physical geography of Mediterranean 

basin, 11 
Piccioni, Dr., Mayor of Bastia, 337 
Picturesque, love of the, 380 
Pilgrims, 1200, to Mecca, 318 
Pine forests, Mentone, 28 
Pino, Seneca's tower, Corsica, 367 
Pinus maritima, 28 

„ pinea, 28 
Piraeus, the, 304 
Pirates, on Kiviera, 187 
Pisa, situation, climate, 213 
Pistacia lentiscus, 27 

,, terebinthinus, 317 
Piscatorians, Mentone, 
Plagues in former days, 227 
Plains of Central Spain, 264^271 
Plane, Oriental, at Mentone, 29 

,, at Constantinople, 325 
Pleiocene rocks, Mentone, 43 
Poet, village doctor and, 373 
Poetical climate fallacies, 88, 203 
Polyphemus, the Cyclops, 436 
Polypodium vulgare fern, 37 
Pompeii, 223, 408 
Ponies, Corsican, 338 

„ Sardinian, 476 
Pont St. Louis, the, 147 
Porpoises in Mediterranean, 138 
Porto Torres, Sardinia, 461 
Porto Vecchio, Corsica, 393 
Prehistoric man, the, 54 
Priest, the, at Pino, Corsica, 368 
Primeval forests, Corsica, 400 

,, ,, Sardinia, 478 

Primroses, valley, 108 
Prisoners, Arab Corsica, 377 
Professors at Mentone, 200 
Pteris aquilana, brake fern, 36 



RAILWAY, Nice to Genoa, 177 
,, Genoa to Pisa, 215 

,, Spanish, 264 

,, in Sardinia, 467 

„ in Algeria, 539, 565 

,, in Asia Minor, 577 

Rainfall at Greenwich, 70 
,, at Mentone, 66 
„ at Nice, 69 
,, at Algiers, 562 
,, in Eastern Spain, 246, 247, 
290 
Rainless tract, Sahara, Arabia, 72 
Rapid travelling dangerous, 641 
Rennie, Dr., malaria in China, 376 
Rest, way to, when driving, 183 
Rheumatism on Riviera, 163 
Rice fields in Spain, 266 

,, in Lombardy, 582 
Riviera, Genoese, 207 
,, Sicilian, 431 
Riviere, M., discovery of fossil man, 

54 
Roccabruna. village of, 41 
Rocks, the red, 49, 150 
Rogers, S., prophecy on Italy, 207 
Rogers, Professor, geology of Mentone, 

39 
Roman aqueduct, 147 
Romans in Algeria, 511 
Rome, the city of, 216 
Rosemary, the, 104 
Roses in Riviera, 105 
Rossiniere, La, summer station, 92 
Rova, valley of the, 45 
Rowing, sailing in Mediterranean, 

167 
Rustchuk, town on Danube, 326 
Ruta muraria fern, 37 



ST A. AGNESE, village of, 187 
St. Antonio gardens, Malta, 488 
St. Dalmas, for summer, 91 
St. Louis rocks, Mentone, 147 
Sta. Lucia di Tallano, 387 
St. Paul, Minnesota, phthisis, 94 
St. Moritz, a summer station, 93 
St. Remo, station of, 229 
Sahara, desert, influences Mediterra- 
nean climate, 83 
Sahel hills, at Algiers, 496 
Salt lakes, Sardinia, 481 
„ Tunis, 566 



654 



INDEX. 



Salvias, on Riviera, 109 
Sandstone vegetation, Mentone, 28 
Sanitaria, summer, 90 

„ Mentone mountains, Dolce 

Aqua, 92 
„ in Switzerland, 91 
„ on Mount Etna, 442 
Saracens, the, in olden times, 187 
Sardinia, 458 
Sarsaparilla (smilax aspera), 36, 

533 
Sartene, in Corsica, 387 
Sassari, town in Sardinia, 464 
Savona, city of, 228 
Scaramoneya's, M., garden, Mar- 
seilles, 117 
Schinus Mulli, 32, 306, 485 
Schools, Arab, 608 
Scirocco wind, the, 82, 447, 544 
Scolopendrum fern at Mentone, 37 
Scorpion valley, Algeria, 544 
Scotland, summer climate of, 162 
Sea sickness, theories of, 495 
Sea voyages for phthisis, 160 
Semillante, wreck of, 457, 460 
Seneca's Tower, Corsica, 369 
Seraglio Gardens, Constantinople, 

323 
Sestri di Levante, town of, 211 
Seville, city and cathedral, 275 
Shelley's house, Leria, 212 
Sicily, tour in, 405 

„ geology, 416 
Sierra Morena, the, Spain, 272 

,, ,, mountains, 272 

Sight-seeing, bad for invalids, 642 
Silver mines, Carthagena, 246 
Simplon Pass, passage of, 600 
Sincapore, temperature of, 91 
Smyrna, climate, 577 

,, gulf and city, 574 
,, vegetation, 575 
Smyth, Admiral, on Mediterranean, 

82 
Snow at Mentone, 16 

„ in Corsica, 66 

,, in Algeria, 564 
Soil, deposited by rivers, 67 
Soils, artificial, 109 
Sospello, drive to, 181 
Soundings, deep-sea, 127 
Spain, carnival, 244 

,, geography and geology, 254 
Spaniards, character, 287 



Spanish village, night in, 286 
Spezzia, climate of, 211 
Sporades, the, archipelago, 317 
Spring in the south, 203 
Squill, the, in Algeria, 530 

,, at Mentone, 103 

Staoueli, battle of, 517 
Stars, fixed and variable, 47 
Storm, a, at sea, 217 
Statistics, weather, Mfntore, 617 
Summer climate of Mentone, 90 
,, climates for invalids, 91 
,, sanitarium, Etna, 443 
Sun heat in Mediterranean, 76 
Sunset at Mentone, 176 

„ chilliness of, 79, 165 
Sunshine in Mediterranean, 76 
Syra, the island of, 312 
Syracuse, town of, Sicily, 451 
Swallows in Mediterranean, 145 
Swiss, winter emigrants, 603 



TAMABISK, the, 34, 272, 545 
Tanks for irrigation, 38 
Taormina, town of Sicily, 432 
Taranto, town of, 2S8 
Tell, the, Algeria, 624 
Temperate zone, Rivieras, in, 87 
Teniet-el-Had, garrison of, 546 
Terraces, mountain, Mentone, 37 
Tertiary rocks, Mentone, 40, 44 
Thermometrical tables, 617 

,, remarks, 624 

Theseus, temple of, Athens, 305 
Thistle, the Variegated, 35 
Thuret, M., garden, Antibes, 106 
Thyme, wild, 104 
Tiberius, Emperor, Capri, 225 
Tizi-ouzou, Kabyle village, 533 
Torquay, rainfall at, 70 
Tower, the, Grimaldi, 148 
Trappists, order of, Algeria, 517 
Troy, site of, 321 
Tunny fishing at Mentone, 138 
Turbia, village of, 175 
Turin road, the, 181 
Tunis, city, situation, 566 
,, „ gardens, 568 
„ ,, vegetation, 569 
,, „ climate, 572 
Tunisia, character of, 573 
Tyndall, Prof., on heat, 65 



INDEX. 



655 



TTNDERCLIFF, the, of Europe, 63 

YAL DE PEN AS, 286 
Valencia, town and valley of, 
267 
Yaletta, city of, Malta, 485 
Yalladolid, city of, 289 
Yalombrosa, duke of, garden, 115 
Vandals, Spain, 250 

,, Algeria, 503, 525 
Vapour in English atmosphere, 64 
Varua, town of, 327 
Vegetation, climate shown by, 13 
Vendetta in Corsica, 347 
Ventilation necessary, 163, 168, 171 
Ventimiglia, town of, 175, 231 
Vesuvius, a volcanic centre, 46 

,, and Mount Etna connected, 
427 
Vetturino travelling, 638 
Vico, village in Corsica, 381 
Victory, the, Nelson's ship, 226 
Vigier's, Baron, garden, 112 
Village, a Kabyle, 533 
Villas at Meatone, 192 
Villefranche, near Nice, 88 
Vine, the, at Mentone, 61 

,, „ in Corsica, 367, 390 
Virgilio, the steamship, 216, 335 
Yivario, pass of, Corsica, 379 
Voceros, Corsican songs, 349 



WARM terraces, the, at Mentone, 
149 
Wars, French, in Algeria, 526, 559 
Water, hard, on Riviera, 49 

,, bad in Sardinia, 480 
Waterfalls, or cascades, Mentone, 189 
Waters, sweet, Constantinople, 321 
Weybridge, my garden at, 117 
Whales in Mediterranean, 138 
Whitebait in Mediterranean, 132 
Windows to be open at night, 210 
Winds, systemic, 72 

„ trade, 73 

5, land and sea at Mentone, 85 
„ difficult to observe, 87 
Wine at Mentone, 61 

„ in Corsica, 367, 390 
Winter in Mediterranean, 3 
Wives, Kabyle, purchased, 536 
Woollen clothes nectssary, 164 



YOUTH and age, joys of, 204 
Yuccas flourish, 114, 115, 



3 



ZANTE. island of, 302 
Ziziphus spina christi, 551 
Zoology, marine, 139 
Zoophytes at Mentone, 140 
,, varieties of, 141 
Zone, Mediterranean, insubtropical, 2 



THE END. 



LONDON: 
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